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Vision in Theocritus: perception, performance, poetics

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Vision in Theocritus: perception, performance, poetics

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Content VISION IN THEOCRITUS: PERCEPTION, PERFORMANCE, POETICS by Matthew Chaldekas A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (CLASSICS) August 2017 Copyright 2017 Matthew Chaldekas ii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This project owes its genesis and completion to many people. I can start by thanking Greg Thalmann for his unflagging willingness to read the many drafts of this work and always provide helpful comments and constructive criticism. Much of the insight in this study belongs to him. The errors--especially my tendency to frequently and egregiously split infinitives--are obviously my own. I also owe thanks to the other members of my committee: A.J. Boyle, Christelle Fischer-Bovet, and Heather James. Christelle and Greg both generously opened their offices to me when I needed a place to write. The faculty and fellow graduate students at USC have helped me to get this far. In particular, thanks to Inessa Gelfenboym in the Slavic Department, who first turned me onto Ursula K. Le Guin, and Ambra Spinelli in Art History, who recommended reading Pirandello at a formative time for this project. Among my peers in the Classics department, Christian Lehmann, Jennifer Devereaux, Tom Sapsford, and Robert Matera have all been positive influences and good friends. This dissertation is dedicated to my mother and grandmothers, who fostered my love of words and stories from a young age. iii TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgements ii Abstract iv INTRODUCTION 1 1. Vision and Poetry in the Early Third Century BCE 3 2. Reading Theocritus' Social Vision 14 3. Hellenistic Vision? 19 CHAPTER 1: Seeing Outsiders: Vision and the Evaluation of Others 27 1. Categorical Logic and Aeschinas' Appearance in Idyll 14 31 2. Sizing Up the Competition: Vision and Alterity in Idyll 22 37 3. Seeing Through One Eye: Vision and Alterity in Idyll 11 65 4. Conclusion 84 CHAPTER 2: Situating Vision: The Awareness of Social Vision and Its Consequences 89 1. Situated Perspectives in Idyll 3 95 2. Failed Performance, Failed Perception: Polyphemus' Plan in Idyll 6 111 3. The Ecphrasis of the Cup: Goatherds' Visions in Idyll 1 120 4. Conclusion 136 CHAPTER 3: The Poetics of Vision: Reading and Experience in Theocritus 139 1. Seeing the Lion: Reading and Role Reversal in Idyll 26 148 2. Allusion and Illusions: Turning Vision Inside-Out in Idyll 7 161 3. Conclusion 191 CONCLUSION 194 BIBLIOGRAPHY 200   iv ABSTRACT The poems of Theocritus are small-scale dramatizations of social interactions. The characters in these poems engage in realistic social interactions, despite being fictional, mythical, or even stereotypical. Previous studies of Theocritus often draw attention to the ways that Theocritus' characters express themselves and evoke ideas about poetic authorship or various aspects of pastoral idealism. These poems also show a surprising interest in the way vision governs interpersonal relationships. Vision is a significant theme in other Greek poems of the early third century, including Aratus' Phaenomena and Callimachus' Bath of Pallas. Theocritus stands apart from these other poets because he explores the interpersonal dimensions of vision and contemplates the social forces which separate people into social groups. Characters use vision to identify themselves and others. Ancient optics provides two models of vision: intramissive and extromissive, which might generally be classed as passive and active vision. Theocritus' poems show a similar interest in passive vision, or perception of others, and active vision, or performative gazes. These two dimensions of vision reveal the many ways in which identity is contingent upon what is seen. The reader of Theocritus is also invited to participate in the social drama of the text. Several poems create space to reflect on the reader's own role in producing the social interactions that these texts depict. The reader's visual imagination gives rise to Theocritus' fictional social worlds, but these poems also encourage a reader to contemplate both the literary and visual dimensions of reading. Far from espousing pastoral escapism, Theocritus' poems reflect on the immediacy of poetic experience and the pervasiveness of the social world. ! of ! 1 214 INTRODUCTION Vision plays an important role in the text of Theocritus and one that has yet to be fully appreciated. Studying vision in Theocritus will allow a new approach to his poetry, one which 1 closely scrutinizes the social interactions in these poems and their significance. Although I do not refer to them frequently, this project has been influenced by several recent works that explore the social and ideological resonances of Hellenistic poetry. By focusing on vision, I hope to offer 2 my readers access to something which would be relevant to the day-to-day lives of Theocritus' readers, but which is also embedded in the cultural context of Ptolemaic Alexandria. This 3 4 chapter will establish the significance of vision in Theocritus, describe its role in the poems, and establish the criteria necessary to interpret it. I will also situate Theocritus among his contemporaries and review the previous scholarship on vision in Hellenistic poetry. Vision appears frequently in the authentic poems of Theocritus. A brief survey will 5 demonstrate its pervasiveness. The two poems about Polyphemus (Idyll 6 and 11) evoke vision I must note here that when I discuss vision, I am explicitly referring to visual perception. Vision is a powerful 1 metaphor for literary readers (e.g. Stephens' 2003 book, Seeing Double: Intercultural Poetics in Ptolemaic Alexandria), but I am concerned with vision in its strictly denotative sense. Griffiths 1979, Burton 1995, Selden 1998, Stephens 2003, Thalmann 2011. 2 The performance of Theocritus is a question for which few definite answers are forthcoming. The dramatic form of 3 many of the poems suggests performance as a possibility. The idea that these poems were only read and not performed seems to give too much credence to Timon's parodical "chicken coop of the Muses." Because my study of the poems focuses mainly on the words of the poems, I will refer to the audience of the poem as a reader. This will also make it easier to distinguish an internal audience in the poem when relevant. On occasion, when it is expedient to draw attention to the potential performance of a text, I will do so. Alexandria is one of three geographical areas which are associated with Theocritus, the other two being Sicily and 4 Cos. For the primacy of Alexandria as a context for the extant Idylls, cf. Bulloch 2016. Idylls 8, 9, 19, 20, 21, 23, 25, and 27 have commonly been recognized as later imitations (Dover 1971: xviii-xix). 5 Idyll 25 may be by a near contemporary of Theocritus (Gow II 239-41), although almost certainly a younger contemporary (Hunter 2008: 290-93). A recent study comparing Idyll 6 with 8 and 9 has speculated that this poem too may be a later imitation (Reed 2010: 249-50). I have included Idyll 6 in my study because it contains interesting uses of vision that puts it in dialogue with Idyll 11. In doing so, I might be said to study an author and the imitators who equaled him rather than a single author. Cf. Hunter 2008: 384-394 for the vagaries of selecting texts based on the criterion of "authenticity." ! of ! 2 214 because the Cyclops is famous for both his non-standard number of eyes (cf. 11.53: "my one eye than which nothing is sweeter to me") and the loss of that eye. These two poems show Polyphemus interpreting his own appearance in very different ways (as ugly, 11.30-33; as beautiful, 6.34-38). The third Idyll resembles the Polyphemus poems, but features a goatherd who tries to get a girl named "Glancer" ("µ#$%&&'() to look at him (3.7, 3.12, 3.39). The first 6 Idyll seems to thematize goatherds' vision; it features both an artistic "sight fit for a goatherd" (#)*+&,-./ 012µ#, 1.56) and the denigration of a mythic herdsman by comparison with a goatherd who gazes lustfully at his flocks (1.84-91). In Idyll 7, the mysterious goatherd Lycidas is introduced with a lengthy description of his visual appearance (7.13-20), while Simichidas' prayer to Pan ends with a series of things which are not seen: not seeing the Nile (7.114), the lost beauty of youth (7.121), the abandonment of a metaphorical watch-patrol (7.122), and preventing the evil eye (7.126-27). The "Hymn to the Dioscuri" (Idyll 22) features a stichomythic stare-down in which vision appears at least five times (22.54-74), a boxing match before spectators, and a battle with an Argonaut famous for his sight ("Lynkeus keen with eyes," 22.194; cf. AR Arg. 1.153-54). Simaetha in the second Idyll describes the debilitating effect of seeing Delphis (Id. 2.82-86, 103-110) and although her curses promise his death, she still yearns to see him (2.9, 2.50). Lastly, the "Encomium of Ptolemy" opens with a comparison of the poet with a woodsman who becomes aporetic when he glances around a thick wood (17.9-10). This brief catalog of references to vision in Theocritus is not exhaustive, but does show the density and diversity of references to vision in the corpus. Before we proceed to further analysis of this For this interpretation of the name, cf. Gutzwiller 1991: 119. The primary connotation of the word is "sparkle," but 6 when used to describe anthropomorphic beings, it often indicates the sparkling of the eyes. This description makes the subject and object positions of the act of viewing ambiguous. ! of ! 3 214 motif, we should note that this focus on vision is not unusual among Theocritus' contemporaries. Several Greek poets of the early third century BCE show a similar preoccupation with vision. I will briefly survey works from these authors to confirm this point, explore why this preoccupation with vision matters, and consider how Theocritus' preoccupation with vision differs from the others. 1. Vision and Poetry in the Early Third Century BCE Aratus of Soli probably composed most of his work between the years 280-260 BCE (Hunter 2008: 153). His poem, the Phaenomena, describes visual signs in the sky, focusing especially on the appearance of stars and constellations. Stars are described in terms of shape, color, and brightness, and the vision of star-watchers is often described. To understand the ubiquity of vision in the poem we might examine a characteristic passage (75-80): 3-4*56+ *7$ -68#&9/ :8,+;<6+/, =- >? @$? =-6'/2( #A5./ =*,8$133#,+ 8#6,/Bµ6/+/ :8,+C<+/, 5+D+' +E -68#&F G*+-6'µ6/+, HI&#+J Kµ+, 6L>+/5#,M -6D/+' I6 -#J N/ >,<Bµ2/, 36&O/P 6)3Q*+J 56&40+,6/. H57$ <4$6( +A µ1&# R3#,M &6*59 I7$ -#J 5F -#J 5F =*,>4>$+µ6/ #LI&2M H&&? Sµ*2( -H-6D/#, =*BT,#,M +A I7$ =&#8$#'. Observe the head of Ophiouchus beside [the head of the Kneeler], and from that you might recognize that Ophiouchus himself is visible. Such bright shoulders are seen lying under his head; these might be seen even with a full moon. But the hands are not equally [bright]. For a slight radiance runs along here and there, but nonetheless these too are visible. For they are not dim. 7 Each line contains at least one word with visual connotations. Here, as elsewhere, the poet directs the reader's vision with an imperative form of the verb 3-4*5+µ#,. The stars are 8 All translations are my own unless otherwise noted. 7 Cf. 778, 799. 3-4*5+µ#, appears often but not exclusively. Other verbs for vision appear, and optative and auxiliary 8 constructions are also frequent, e.g. 3-4*5+,+ (96), 3-4*5#3630#, >+-4+, (157), 02O3#,+ (451). ! of ! 4 214 described in terms of their visibility using verbs and adjectives which refer to vision and light (8#6,/Bµ6/+/, HI&#+J... 6L>+/5#,, 6)3Q*+J, &6*59... #LI&2, =*BT,#,, =&#8$#'). These terms give the reader not only instructions for how to recognize the constellation, but also recreate the precise appearance of the constellation in the night sky. As one critic has noted, "what cannot be seen ... must be narrated ... the 'truth' of [the poem] ... is guaranteed by the evidence of our own eyes" (Hunter 2008: 182). The repeated references to vision in the poem, particularly using imperative or hortatory verbs, frame the reader as viewer (cf. V olk 2012: 216-17). Human vision is not only a means of perceiving the poem's "visible signs" (Kidd's translation of the poem's title), it also delimits the structure of Aratus' cosmos. Discussing the divisions of the sky, the poem measures the circle of the Zodiac in terms of an observer's vision (541-544): U33+/ >? V80#&µ+D+ W+&X( H*+56'/65#, #AIO, YZ1-,( N/ 5B332 µ,/ G*+>$1µ+,M #A57$ Y-1352 L32 µ65$206D3# >;Q *6$,54µ/65#, @35$#. [Q\>,+/ >4 Y -;-&+/ =*'-&23,/ -#&4+%3,/. As far as the beam from the glance of an eye stretches out, such a beam would subtend [this circle] six times. But each sixth measured equally intersects two constellations. They call it by name the circle of the Zodiac. Here again we see the contrast between what is seen and what is said, but more importantly, this passage uses human vision to demarcate the divisions of the cosmos. The beam of the observer's gaze draws a line from the center of the cosmos (on the Earth) to the ecliptic on which the constellations are fixed. The distance of this line can be used to measure out a chord which intersects two constellations, and when repeated six times across the circumference of the circle, these chords create a hexagon. As one scholar has noted, "this mathematical preamble to the ! of ! 5 214 Zodiac implies that the division into twelve constellations derives from the very nature of things" (Kidd 1998: 371). This passage also depicts human vision as both a means of perceiving this cosmic structure and the designation of its measure. The first line of the passage is composed of a correlative clause which defines the distance that will be used to measure the total size of the Zodiac, but rather than framing it in terms of feet or stades, the distance is expressed in terms of a human sight. 9 The main purpose of human vision in the poem is to distinguish the divine nature of the universe, which is identified with Zeus. The proem sums this point up pithily: "everyone in every way, we depend on Zeus; for we are also his offspring" (*1/52 >] ^,.( -6<$Oµ60# *1/56(. / 5+C I7$ -#J I4/+( 6)µ4/, Phaen. 4-5). Zeus is the source of humanity and reveals the things humans 10 must know by means of divine signs (10-13): #A5.( I7$ 51 I6 3Oµ#5? =/ +A$#/_ =35O$,Z6/, @35$# >,#-$'/#(, =3-4T#5+ >? 6)( =/,#%5./ H354$#( +` -6 µ1&,35# 565%Iµ4/# 32µ#'/+,6/ H/>$13,/ a$1Q/, b8$? Sµ*6># *1/5# 8;Q/5#,. For [Zeus] himself fixed the signs in the sky, distinguishing constellations, and discerning the stars for the year which might show the most reliable signs of the seasons to men, so that everything might grow without fail. Here we find the cosmos ordered according to the mind of Zeus. Both the fixity of the cosmos and its accessibility to the mind of man suggest Aratus' Stoic inclinations. The action which 11 Zeus performs when he determines the arrangements of the stars is the same that Aratus often The text is not explicit as to the nature of this vision, but it clearly seems to be a form of extromissive vision, in 9 which rays generated by the human body extend out of the eyes. The alternative terms which I mention, feet and stades, both derive from human bodies and human locomotion. For this interpretation of -6<$Oµ60#, cf. Kidd 1998: 165-66. 10 Cf. Hunter 2008: 158-59, who warns of the difficulty of proving this association but ultimately accepts it. 11 ! of ! 6 214 enjoins upon his reader (>,#-$'/#(, =3-4T#5+), although here the terms take on a cognitive dimension, as my translation shows (cf. Kidd 1998: 169). This passage is echoed in in the final lines of the poem (1153-54): 5c/ @µ%>,( *1/5Q/ =3-6µµ4/+( 6)( =/,#%5./ +A>4*+56 3<6>'Q( -6/ =*? #)04$, 56-µO$#,+. Having watched for all of these signs together for the year, you might never draw an uninformed conclusion from the sky. The end of the first line recalls Zeus' act of organizing the cosmos (=3-4T#5+ >? 6)( =/,#%5./; =3-6µµ4/+( 6)( =/,#%5./) but here the verb 3-4*5+µ#, designates human observation rather than divine design. The textual echo draws a reader's attention to the important relationship between human perception and divine design upon which this poem is founded. It seems that the 12 primary purpose of this text is to permit people to see more than they would normally when they look at "visible signs" in the sky and to derive knowledge that they would not normally be able to gain from those signs. Callimachus is often considered the pinnacle of third-century Greek poetry, especially in Alexandria. He was born in the last quarter of the fourth-century and probably lived into the reign of Ptolemy III Euergetes. Despite his prolific literary production, a disappointingly small 13 amount of his poetic works survive, almost all in fragmentary form. The one exception to this Two passages raise the question of a potential priority of human cognition over divine organization. The famous 12 armillary sphere, which is said to differ in no way from the cosmos itself (529-532) suggests an equivalence between the divine cosmos and human craftsmanship (cf. V olk 2012: 210-11). Similarly, the anonymous discoverer of the constellations (373-82) might be thought either to discern patterns which are already present or to actively design the patterns of the constellations himself. If the latter is true then this nameless human rivals the actions of Zeus in the proem (V olk 2012: 220). These interpretations suggest that the poem may present a more anthropocentric and less strictly Stoic interpretation of the relationship between man and the cosmos. While I do not have the space to explore such a line of inquiry here, such a conclusion would make vision in Aratus take on a "humanistic" dimension that might fruitfully be compared with my discussion of Theocritus below. Briefly reviewed by Stephens 2011: 10. Lehnus 1995 offers a thorough exploration of the evidence. 13 ! of ! 7 214 literary parsimony are the six surviving hymns. The precise occasion or original publication of these hymns is unclear, but they do offer a glimpse of Callimachus which is relatively unmarred by lacunae. The mimetic Hymns--to Apollo (2), Athena (5), and Demeter (6)-- attempt to represent a live performance, and as such evoke the reader's vision. The extent to which the performative dimension of these poems succeeds in this evocation of vision, however, can be questioned. As one scholar has noted (Hunter 1992: 12-13): these hymns as a whole seek to 'envision' narrative through a powerful mode of enargeia, but not in any simple way. +;< B$1#,(; 'do you (sing.) not see?' asks the poetic voice (h. 2,4), and we are compelled to answer 'well, no.' Rather than to press this characterization of the poems further, I will focus on one hymn, which makes clear use of vision in its story: The Bath of Pallas (Hymn 5). The Bath of Pallas depicts, among other things, the blinding of Tiresias. Although there are different versions of this myth, Callimachus follows a version which comes from the fifth- century mythographer Pherecydes of Athens (cf. Apoll. Bib. 3.6.7). When Tiresias sees Athena 14 he is immediately struck blind. His mother, Chariclo blames the goddess, but Athena explains (Hymn 5.98-102): ...=Id >? +e 5+, 54-/+/ S02-? H&#B/. +A I7$ "0#/#'f I&%-6$./ *4&6, bµµ#5# *#'>Q/ g$*1h6,/M i$B/,+, >? j>6 &4I+/5, /Bµ+,M U( -6 5,/? H0#/15Q/, U-# µ9 06.( #A5.( k&25#,, H0$O3P, µ,30c 5+C5+/ )>6D/ µ6I1&Q. I did not make your child blind. For it is not pleasant for Athena to swipe the eyes of children. The laws of Cronus say the following: whoever sees one of the immortals when the god himself does not choose, that one sees at a great price. Stephens briefly reviews the different version of the myth and their sources (2015: 237). 14 ! of ! 8 214 Tiresias' vision gives him access to knowledge that he is not supposed to have, i.e. to the appearance of the body of a god who is unwilling. This knowledge, like that which Aratus' observer gains from the sky, is of something divine, but unlike the divine knowledge inscribed in Aratus' cosmos, what Tiresias sees is not mediated by means of signs. He gains direct access to 15 the godhead, and just as with others in Greek myth, e.g. Semele and Actaeon (cf. Hymn 5.110-116), the result is destructive. Although the poem stresses the unwillingness of Tiresias' act of vision (+A- =04&Q/ >?6R>6 57 µ9 06µ,51 "not willingly he saw things not permitted," 78), the problem remains that he has seen what he should not see, regardless of his intent or willingness (Bulloch 1985: 48). His vision has gone beyond the normal boundaries which circumscribe human perception. In exchange for his blindness, Athena grants Tiresias the power to transcend the human limits of perception in another way. The goddess compensates Tiresias for the loss of his sight with direct access to knowledge much like that which Aratus teaches his readers (121-124): µ1/5,/ =*6J 023c /,/ H+'>,µ+/ =33+µ4/+,3,/, l µ4I# 5c/ @&&Q/ >O 5, *6$,33B56$+/. I/Q36D5#, >? b$/,<#(, U( #L3,+( +` 56 *45+/5#, m&,0# -#J *+'Q/ +A- HI#0#J *54$%I6(. Since I will make him a seer renowned among those who will be, and much more remarkable than the others. He will know birds, which is auspicious and which fly purposelessly and of which sorts the wings are not favorable. Athena almost always mediates her appearance in some way, cf. Loraux 1995: 220: "Seeing the impossible, ... the 15 body of a goddess who is never reduced to her body alone, because her being is in the multiple appearances that she assumes, in Homer, to deceive Odysseus or to be recognized, in the protective wrappings--breastplate, aegis, peplos--that in the minds of the Greeks are indissociably attached to her." ! of ! 9 214 Tiresias' blindness is compensated with a capacity to discern signs which permit him to predict the future. Aratus also explains bird signs in his Phaenomena. Tiresias will have to practice this 16 art with his ears instead of his eyes, but the knowledge he will gain surpasses normal human 17 understanding. In exchange for seeing an aspect of the divine which he shouldn't have, Tiresias gains access to a different kind of divine knowledge. The different generic and narrative conventions of hymnic and didactic poetry, not to mention the poets' different philosophical and cultural orientations, make Aratus' and Callimachus' poems very different, but the relationships between vision and knowledge that they depict are remarkably similar. My last example of a third-century poet who shows interest in vision is Apollonius of Rhodes. The Argonautica is a much longer and more complex poem than either of those 18 discussed thus far, so I will limit myself to a single example. In the fourth book, Medea 19 performs a supernatural act of vision: she uses her gaze to kill the bronze giant Talos (4.1669-72): For example, herons (913-15), petrels (916-17), ducks and gulls (918-19), swallows (944-45), crows (949-53), 16 chickens (960-62), ravens and jackdaws (963-72), etc. cf. Aes. Sept. 24-26: /C/ >? a( n µ1/5,( 823'/, +)Q/c/ W+5O$, / =/ o3J /Qµc/ -#J 8$63'/, *%$.( >'<#, / 17 <$2352$'+%( b$/,0#( HT6%>6D 54</P "Now as the seer says, herdsman of birds, observing in his ears and mind without fire the prophetic birds with unerring skill." Apollonius' Argonautica has recently been dated to late in the third century (Murray 2014), making him a younger 18 contemporary of the poets already discussed. I include him here for the following reason. Although the final version of Apollonius' Argonautica may date to later in the third century, scholars have frequently noted the parallels between the stories of Hylas and Amycus in its first two books and Theocritus' versions of the same stories in Idylls 13 and 22. The scholarly consensus has generally ruled Apollonius' versions of these stories as prior to Theocritus, in contrast to Murray's late dating of the poem (see citations in Chapter 1). I do not propose to re-open this contentious issue, but I do think Apollonius can be considered relevant because of his affinities with Theocritus and Callimachus (cf. Hunter 1989: 6-9). Parts of the Argonautica may date from earlier in the third century. Hunter has noted that a poem such as this may have been a long-term product, and thus some parts may date from different periods in the author's life (2015: 2). I suspect that vision plays a more prominent role in Apollonius' poem than there is space to discuss here. An 19 important recent study of this poem explores its articulation of spaces and the relation of these spaces to ideological concepts of Greekness (Thalmann 2011). Space and vision are often dependent on each other in poetics, as recent work on Homer has shown (Clay 2011, Tsagalis 2012). ! of ! 10 214 ...06µ4/2 >] -#-./ /B+/ =<0+>+*+D3,/ bµµ#3, <#&-6'+,+ p1&Q =µ4I2$6/ V*Q*1(M &6%I#&4+/ >? =*' +E *$D6/ <B&+/, =- >? H'>2&# >6'-2&# *$+\#&&6/, =*,h186&+/ -+54+%3#. Harboring wicked thoughts, she cursed the eyes of bronze Talos with hateful stares. She gnashed baneful anger at him and sent forth destructive phantoms, being violently angry. Two aspects of vision in this passage stand out. First, Medea seems to use her magic to attack Talos with baskania or "the evil eye" (Dickie 1990). Second, the "phantoms" (>6'-2&#) with which she attacks him evoke an atomistic understanding of vision with ties to both Democritus and Epicurus (Powers 2002). This combination of popular superstition and philosophical concepts shows that Apollonius and his ideal reader are comfortable with a broad range of ideas about vision. For our purposes, we need only to note that Medea's vision is extromissive, like 20 that of Aratus' astronomical observer, but rather than offering access to some form of divine knowledge, her vision is weaponized. As a consequence, we can deduce that source of the superhuman power resides within Medea rather than within what she gazes on. For an ancient audience, whether or not they recognized all of the philosophical allusions, Medea's power would probably be familiar as a superstition that some of them took seriously. The evil eye was a fundamental concept which attests to the power of vision and its haptic qualities. In the Argonautica passage, vision carries power. This power is not Medea's alone; she must channel it through incantations and prayers (Arg. 4.1665-69). And the power is not able to differentiate those whom she intends to harm and those whom she would not wish to harm, as she reveals when she pulls her cowl up over her head to shield the Argonauts from the power of As Hughes Fowler notes on the aesthetics of landscape in Hellenistic poetry and art: "Alexandrian science may 20 have inspired them, but they imbued that science with magic" (Hughes Fowler 1989: 122). ! of ! 11 214 her gaze (Arg. 4.1661-63; Hunter 2015: 301-302). This fact suggests that the power of her 21 vision transcends her interpersonal interactions. Like the vision of Tiresias in the Bath of Pallas, Medea's gaze is unmediated; the "images" (>6'-2&#) leave her eyes and travel to those of Talos conveying the force of her magic. The power within her gaze is not explained, but it seems to have some affinities with the power that blinds Tiresias in Callimachus. There, the same power that blinds Tiresias is said to also bring about the death of Actaeon, who will be eaten by his hunting dogs (Hymn 5.105-116). Medea's gaze exercises a similarly disastrous effect on Talos, who is not injured directly by the gaze itself, but is caused to accidentally catch his ankle on a sharp rock and fatally drain his body of ichor (Arg. 4.1677-80). In both cases, the vision itself brings about a fateful (cf. Hymn 5.104-6) chain of events. Vision transcends perception and takes on an important role in the lives and deaths of these characters. Each of the authors that I have discussed so far make significant use of vision in their poems. There are important differences, but some striking similarities. Aratus, Callimachus, and Apollonius all depict vision as a means of interacting with something non-human, whether it is the sky, the body of a goddess, or a bronze giant. In each case, vision grants access to or calls upon a power which transcends that of human cognition or human force: Aratus offers a reader the power to understand the cosmic order; Tiresias loses the power of sight but gains the power of prophecy, and of course Medea's gaze demonstrates her magical power. Theocritus' vision on the other hand rarely transcends the human. This tendency to depict "human (but not necessarily The beginning of the passage I have quoted does seem to indicate that she must use "wicked thoughts" (-#-./ 21 /B+/, 4.1669) in order to activate this power (cf. Hunter 2015: 303). This phrase may also simply refer to her hostility towards Talos. ! of ! 12 214 humble) characters and contexts" in his poetry has been called "demythologizing" (Fantuzzi 2000: 136). We can extend this evaluation to his acts of vision. In Theocritus, vision is almost always interpersonal and lacks much of the superhuman power which can be found in the examples given above. There is power in this vision too, but interpersonal power requires more explanation. Unlike the vision in Callimachus or Apollonius, vision in Theocritus is always mediated. It performs social functions such as identifying a character or differentiating a character's social standing based on his appearance. For example, in Idyll 22, when Polydeuces meets Amycus, the Bebrycian king expresses disfavor at "[seeing] men I have not seen before" (n$c 5+q( µ9 *$J/ b*Q*#, 22.55). The implication is that men he has not seen are also men he cannot trust. Polydeuces tries to reassure him by saying, "know that you see neither unjust men nor the progeny of unjust men" (µO5’ H>'-+%( µO5’ =Z H>'-Q/ 810, &6;336,/, 22.56). In these lines, vision's capacity to negotiate social roles between characters is made explicit. Amycus classifies the men he sees on his shore as a threat, while Polydeuces tries to reassure him that they are not. Even when the social aspect of vision is not made so explicit, it may still be significant. If we examine the list of references to vision in Theocritus which opens this chapter, we will find that almost all occur in interactions between characters. This vision has a social dimension within the narrative, which makes it different from the vision in Aratus or Callimachus. For example, in Callimachus, Tiresias does not see another human but a god. The rules governing this interaction are made clear, but there would likely be no divine punishment for looking upon a mortal woman bathing. Apollonius' baskania, which can be used interpersonally, also differs from the example given above. The interchange between Polydeuces and Amycus shows the two men negotiating how to perceive each other, whereas Talos is already ! of ! 13 214 recognized as an enemy. Medea only gazes at Talos as a means to dispose of the bronze giant after he has already been identified as a threat. One way to account for this very different aspect of vision in Theocritean poetry is to recognize it as an exploration of human interaction. As Peter Levi has said, Theocritus is "quite precise about relationships" (Levi 1993: 133), but this precision does not always entail explicitness. "From the first Idyll onwards, relationships are crisp: more is implied than is said" (Levi 1993: 116). My readings of vision will unpack some of these implied relationships. I do not suggest that Theocritus accurately represents people as they could be found in the real world in which he composed. The poems of Theocritus create a fictional world. By means of fictive characters who inhabit fictive settings, the poems represent interactions and behavior which have definite analogues in real life. For example, Idyll 11 depicts the Cyclops Polyphemus, a mythical figure, as the poem notes: n i;-&QT ... a$<#D+( r+&;8#µ+( (11.7-8). 22 There is no illusion that Polyphemus is in some way part of the real world of Theocritus, but he does behave in recognizably human ways. He nurses an unrequited love for another mythical character, the sea nymph Galatea. When he wonders why his beloved does not return his feelings, he recognizes that his courtship is affected by his unattractive appearance (11.30-33, see below). Although the poem plays with the monstrousness and inhumanity of this character (see chapter 1), Polyphemus' behavior is explicitly identified as a model for the poem's audience, the doctor Nicias (11.1-9). Hannah Arendt, in The Human Condition, a wide-ranging study of social life, declares that to be seen and heard by others who hold a plurality of perspectives is the defining feature of social life (Arendt 1958: 57). To understand Theocritus' exploration of the Cf. Hunter 1999: 227: "a$<#D+(: i.e. belonging to the heroic age and the subject of 'archaic' poetry." 22 ! of ! 14 214 social world, we must consider how many different viewing perspectives Theocritus offers and what they tell us. 2. Reading Theocritus' Social Vision Vision is a mimetic feature of poetry. That is to say, vision in art imitates vision in life. One can only understand a poetic representation of vision in terms by which one would understand vision as a lived experience. This mimetic quality of vision functions independently of the realism of the poem. Whether or not we believe in the reality of Cyclopes, we understand that their eyes work (or don't work) the same way ours do. This does not mean that vision always demonstrates the same functions and capacities in poetry that it has in life, e.g. gods can see more than men or can appear to some men and not to others. But it does mean that vision in a poem only makes sense when compared with a reader's own ideas about vision. These ideas are also influenced by earlier representations of vision in literature, science, or philosophy. Thus I will focus on what Gutzwiller calls the analogical aspect of the poems, i.e. "parallels conceived by the reader between what happens within the poem and what happens outside" (Gutzwiller 1991: 17). By focusing on the similarity of vision inside and outside the text, I commit myself to do more than study visual effects such as ecphrasis and enargeia, both of which have been heavily studied already. 23 The aspect of vision that I will explore in Theocritus shares several qualities with the vision described by Audre Lorde in her essay, "Eye to Eye: Black Women, Hatred, and Anger" (1984: 147-48): On enargeia, cf. Zanker 1987 and 2004. On ecphrasis in Theocritus, cf. Cairns 1984; Goldhill 1994; Burton 1995: 23 93-122; and Payne 2001. ! of ! 15 214 The AA subway train to Harlem. I clutch my mother's sleeve, her arms full of shopping bags, christmas-heavy. The wet smell of winter clothes, the train's lurching. My mother spots an almost seat, pushes my little snowsuited body down. On one side of me a man reading a paper. On the other, a woman in a fur hat staring at me. Her mouth twitches as she stares and then her gaze drops down, pulling mine with it. Her leather-gloved hand plucks at the line where my new blue snowpants and her sleek fur coat meet. She jerks her coat closer to her. I look. I do not see whatever terrible thing she is seeing on the seat between us--probably a roach. But she has communicated her horror to me. It must be something very bad from the way she's looking, so I pull my snowsuit closer to me away from it, too. When I look up the woman is still staring at me, her nose holes and eyes huge. And suddenly I realize that there is nothing crawling up the seat between us; it is me she doesn't want her coat to touch... Something's going on here I do not understand, but I will never forget it. Her eyes. The flared nostrils. The hate. There are two kinds of vision in this passage, the naive perception of the young girl and the demonstrative gaze of the racist woman. The woman's gaze does more than just perceive the girl, but the girl does not understand at first that the message of the woman's vision is directed at her. This kind of look is usually reserved for something less than human: a cockroach. Lorde's story exemplifies the power vision has to articulate social relations and hierarchies. This vision is interpersonal, but it is also more than that. The woman sees young Audre categorically. This vision communicates a norm or a social truth. Although the woman acts as an individual, the message of her vision is something systematic; it buttresses the racist exclusion of African Americans from integrated society. This vision is not just about what you see, but how you see and who you are. Lorde is building upon a picture that was earlier illuminated by James Baldwin in the titular essay of his collection Notes of a Native Son (1955: 92-93, emphasis in original): I had been living in New Jersey, working in defense plants, working and living among southerners, white and black. I knew about the south, of course, and about how southerns treated Negroes and how they expected them to behave, but it had never entered my mind that anyone would look at me and expect me to behave that way. I learned in New Jersey ! of ! 16 214 that to be Negro meant, precisely, that one was never looked at but was simply at the mercy of the reflexes the color of one's skin caused in other people. As in Lorde, Baldwin de-emphasizes the perceptive aspect of vision in favor of its capacity to articulate social divisions. This vision does not see the individual except in that individual's capacity to exemplify the viewer's generalized notions about a group. Nor is the role of viewer entirely intentional. Baldwin describes the way others see him as an act of reflexes. While metaphorical, this way of describing racial attitudes draws attention to the fact that vision inspires more than simply rational reactions. Vision also taps into something more instinctual, which an individual might not think about. The result for Baldwin the same as for Lorde. The gaze divides people into groups according to superficial categories such as skin color. Both of these writers are describing the experience of being African American in the United States in the early 1940s. Their narratives could both be read in strictly historicized terms, but Baldwin, whose book was first published in the mid 1950s, and Lorde, whose collection came out in the mid 1980s, clearly aim to do more than describe their past. The incidents they recall are emblematic of the experience of many African Americans in the United States even now. One might even go so far as to claim this kind of interaction as a universal aspect of human societies. Consider, for example, a passage from Polyphemus' address to Galatea, which I will discuss in more detail in my third chapter (11.30-33): I,/s3-Q, <#$'633# -B$#, 5'/+( +t/6-# 86;I6,(M +t/6-1 µ+, &#3'# µ]/ V8$q( =*J *#/5J µ65s*u =Z o5.( 545#5#, *+5J 0s56$+/ K( µ'# µ#-$1, 6v( >? V80#&µ.( t*635,, *&#56D# >] wJ( =*J <6'&6,. I know, winsome maiden, why you flee. It's because a shaggy brow stretches over my whole forehead from one ear to the other ear, one thick line. There's one eye under it, and a wide nose upon my lip. ! of ! 17 214 In these lines, Polyphemus describes his appearance before the eyes of Galatea, the nymph he courts. Polyphemus recognizes his ugly appearance as the reason that the nymph does not respond to his advances. But more than ugliness is described in these lines. The most striking feature of his appearance is not the shaggy unibrow or the broad nose but the single eye. The single eye is one of the most easily recognizable aspects of the Cyclops, and it contributes to his classification as an inhuman or monstrous other (Page 1955a: 16). Looking upon such a face might evoke not only romantic distaste but also the reflexive disgust which Lorde and Baldwin describe. Polyphemus seems to recognize this possibility and carefully secludes the mention of his single eye within the passage by placing it after a lengthy description of his brow and pairing it with a similar phrase describing the brow (µ'# µ#-$1, / 6v( >? V80#&µ.(), in order to render it less shocking. A unibrow may be ugly, but it is not monstrous. Polyphemus' single eye, however, transcends ugliness and marks his difference in a more significant way. There is nothing quite 24 so bald in Theocritus as the hateful and hegemonic gazes described by Lorde and Baldwin, but vision is informed by social distinctions in other ways. In studying the social aspect of vision, I draw upon a wealth of scholarship interested in this topic. Social vision has been studied within a broad range of disciplines since the mid-twentieth century. I will offer a brief survey here, but this is a large topic and more specific exposition will be provided at the start of each chapter. When people are involved, vision is always more than just bare perception. Or as one critic has put it, "the way we see things is inevitably affected by Most critics note that this passage makes the single eye of the Cyclops explicit in contrast with the Odyssey, where 24 this fact is only implicit (e.g. Hunter 1999: 233). I do not dispute this reading, but do not think that it invalidates my own reading. The allusion that these critics notice is a subtext which exists for the external audience of the poem, whereas my reading considers a subtext which can be framed in terms of the motivation of the speaker within the poem. The fact that the allusion to Homer makes the single eye stand out would only heighten the irony of Polyphemus' attempt to downplay his single eye. ! of ! 18 214 how we are mentally positioned relative to them (that is, by the particular perspective from which we 'view' them)" (Zerubavel 1997: 30, emphasis in original). This perspective is not the seemingly objective visual lens of an instrument like a telescope or magnifying glass. Vision participates in the socially-constructed distinctions between people. Vision often draws upon and articulates cognitive categories that groups use to think of themselves and each other. In America, when we see a woman in a hijab, there are many ways for us to categorize what we have seen. Depending on the temperament and education of the viewer, these might range from more benign recognition of her religious affiliation to harsh judgements about her life and social world. For Merleau-Ponty, vision is implicitly social; the immanence of vision cannot exist without another person to create the potential of communicating what is seen: "in the perception of another, I find myself in relation with another 'myself,' who is, in principle, open to the same truths I am" (Merleau-Ponty 1964: 17). The existence of others who can perceive the objects which we perceive--and can perceive us as objects--demands the ability to form an agreement about what these perceptions constitute (Merleau-Ponty 1962: xx; 1964: 17-18). This is to say that there is no concrete reality which is perceived, but only an objectivity that is agreed upon by a social group. When we read Theocritus we should consider the social groups which the text 25 engages in order to determine this agreement. One of these groups is surely the elite, Greek male For Merleau-Ponty, this consensus is implicit before being made explicit by language: "I will never know how 25 you see red, and you will never know how I see it, but this separation of consciousness is recognized only after a failure of communication, and our first movement is to believe in an undivided being between us" (1964: 17). ! of ! 19 214 who constituted a majority of the poet's audience, but the poetry itself is largely populated by 26 characters of "low" social standing such as herdsmen and other non-normative groups such as foreigners and women. This study will show that the poems of Theocritus contemplate a wide range of viewers and perspectives. In doing so, I hope to extend the claims put forth by previous studies of vision in Hellenistic poetry. 3. Hellenistic Vision? The study of vision in antiquity has garnered much attention over the last several decades. Greek epic and tragedy have received the most attention, while studies of vision in 27 Hellenistic poetry have been more limited. Only two studies offer anything resembling a 28 comprehensive approach to vision in Hellenistic poetry. Zanker has completed the only book- length study, which features a tantalizing title: Modes of Viewing in Hellenistic Poetry and Art. The book, however, largely avoids any attempt to define specific modes of viewing and instead studies visual effects in both the plastic and poetic art of the Hellenistic period. More detailed criticisms of the book's premises have been documented by Elsner, who warns that the book's broad scope conjures a fictive "Hellenistic" subject which was unlikely to exist within such a wide span of space and time (Elsner 2005: 461). My own concern is that Zanker's narrow focus The problem of Theocritus' audience is too big a topic to broach here. The consensus about the poet's audience is 26 that it was composed mainly of members of the Ptolemaic court (cf. Griffiths 1979: 1-8), but we cannot precisely determine the demography of this group, which may have included Greek-speaking Egyptians (cf. Stephens 2003: 241-45, on the importance of Egyptians and Egyptian culture to the Ptolemaic court). Scholarship on Theocritus has generally acknowledged the shift toward written, rather than performed, dissemination of poetry (e.g Hunter 1996: 4-5). Such a means of publishing poetry would make it more widely accessible to anyone who was literate and had the resources to obtain texts. Tragedy: Seale 1982, Zeitlin 1994, Rabinowitz 2013, Thumiger 2013; Epic: Minchin 2001: 132-160, Clay 2011, 27 Tsagalis 2012, Lovatt 2013. Although I count 8 studies, only one is book-length, and the 8 studies pursue only 3 or 4 lines of inquiry: Walsh 28 1985; Dickie 1990, which is elaborated by Powers 2002; Goldhill 1994, which is followed by Skinner 2001 and Goldhill 2007; and Zanker 2004, which expands upon Zanker 1996 and attempts to reply to Goldhill 1994. None of these attempts to study a single author in detail. ! of ! 20 214 on visual effects which can arise both from texts and from the viewing of a work of art make its conclusions less substantial than they could be. For example, he notes that in the boxing match of Idyll 22, two groups of spectators provide readers with "responses from onlookers with which the readers can identify" (Zanker 2004: 35). Zanker does not explain how this identification affects the reader's understanding of the characters or the plot of the poem. Do the onlookers' reactions change how the reader views the scene? Do they change how a reader reflects on herself as reader? Zanker carefully catalogues the visual effects of the scene without addressing how the spectators within the text affect our interpretation of it. Vision is not only an effect; it also has meaning. The onlookers also play a role in the social drama which plays out between the Greek Polydeuces and the non-Greek Amycus. I will discuss the significance of this scene more fully in Chapter 1, but it should suffice now to note that the social aspect of vision in this scene should not be separated from the scene's visual effects. Goldhill's study of artistic vision is less reticent about meaning. He proposes that ecphrasis "engages the reader in (seeing oneself) seeing others seeing meaning" (1994: 223). He extrapolates information about vision from ancient ecphrases in order to define what he calls alternatively the "discourse of viewing" (1994: 210) or the "culture of viewing" (1994: 205). A fundamental concept which I draw from Goldhill is that "seeing is a theory-laden activity" (Goldhill 1994: 210). This premise allows us to move past visual effects and explore the relation between perception and thought. Goldhill frames his inquiry into ancient vision around Baxandall's art-historical concept of the "period eye," which determines how artworks construct normative viewers. This is a useful heuristic, but in pursuit of something as broad as a discourse or culture of viewing, it may also be too limited. One response to Goldhill's study suggests that ! of ! 21 214 the viewing subject which Goldhill identifies with his Hellenistic discourse of viewing, i.e. the normative elite male, is not the only viewing subject which ancient texts draw upon. Skinner studies epigrams by female authors, such as Erinna, Nossis, and Anyte, and concludes that these produce their own discourse of viewing which centers upon a female viewing subject (Skinner 2001). She shows that there is not one exclusive mode of viewing, and her conclusions encourage us to look for more. In this regard, Walsh's study of vision in Idylls 1 and 7 provides a useful model for this project. In his study, vision is less a term of analysis and more a convenient metaphor to stage the relationship between the outward display of persona and the invisible inner nature of the individual. Nevertheless, he does explore some of the formal aspects of the poems which engage with vision. Walsh considers how the speakers of Idylls 1 and 7 use visual description to express their experience or pathos. He then shows how formal aspects of this description reveal something under the surface of these speakers, their character or êthos (Walsh 1985: 4). My project is interested in a similar relationship between vision and character. I seek to explore how individual characters associate themselves with others as members of a social group and the role that vision plays in this association. Walsh focuses on the relationship between character and 29 landscape rather than the relationships characters have with each other. He defines êthos as "the This way of reading the poems goes back to Legrand who called them "character sketches" ("les esquisses de 29 caractères," 1898: 173). Legrand continues (1898: 173): Les pièces de Théocrite ont trop peu d'étendue, et d'ordinaire aussi trop peu d'action, pour que l'auteur ait pu s'y révéler souvent observateur et peintre de charactères, c'est-à-dire capable d'accommoder en toute occasion la conduite et les paroles de tel personnage à un certain fonds de qualités constantes, conçu d'après un type de la vie réelle. This evaluation of Theocritus' poetry represents it as a fictionalization of real situations and real people. Legrand's reference to "real life types" is less helpful. He seems to accept that both characters and real people can easily be described using stereotypes, as he shows when he concludes that the women in Idyll 15 conform to real models of their class and gender which exist irrespective of time or place (Legrand 1898: 178). ! of ! 22 214 particular, abiding, and invisible aspect of human beings" and pathos as "the general, impulsive, and visible" (1985: 9). Within these terms, characters either stand out from the natural landscape of the text when they reveal their êthos, or become part of the scenery when they display their pathos (Walsh 1985: 2). For example, according to Walsh, the goatherd who narrates the ecphrasis of Idyll 1 "remains part of the Idyll's frame" because he never explicitly reveals his character, and instead dedicates himself to narrating what he sees on the cup (Walsh 1985: 5). Walsh's Aristotelian terminology, however, also opens a path to a more explicitly social reading. In the Poetics, Aristotle delineates three types of characters (x02): "noble" 3*+%>#'+, / W6&5'+/6( x -#0? yµz(, "base" 8#;&+, / <6'$+/6( [x -#0?yµz(], and "ordinary" 5+,+C5+, / nµ+D+, (1448a1-6). Each of the character types is derived from behavior, whether they exhibit "excellence" or "wickedness." He goes on to assign these different character types to different 30 authors and then to different genres, concluding with the famous axiom that tragedy represents people better than they are now, comedy, worse (1448a16-18). Others have gone over this material in greater detail (cf. Zanker 1987: 139-144), but for my purposes, the important details have already been set out. Aristotle's study of character (êthos) is based, unsurprisingly given the Greek term, in ethics (cf. Halliwell 1987: 139-141). This is a particular ethics, and is 31 57 I7$ x02 3<6>./ H6J 5+;5+,( H-+&+%06D µB/+,(, -#-'f I7$ -#J H$65F 57 x02 >,#84$+%3, *1/56( "It follows that 30 characters adhere only to these [types], since all distinguish their characters through excellence and wickedness" (Poetics 1448a2-4). There may be some reason to exchange this ethical typology for one based on what might be called class or social 31 status (Zanker 1987: 141-42). One passage in the Poetics suggests that women and slaves, although base (<6D$+/ ... 8#C&+/), might still show good character (1454a19-22). Whether the passage refers to women and slaves in terms of social status or in terms of ethical disposition is not clear, but these two ways of classifying people were not mutually exclusive for the Greeks. Politics distinguishes between the mental capacities of men, women, and slaves with a specific reference to ethical reasoning (cf. "intellectual excellence" >,#/+25,-9 H$65O, 1260a15). In this taxonomy, only men are fully endowed with a mind that is ethically fit for freedom (1260a5-20). ! of ! 23 214 prescriptive and highly taxonomic. Theocritus' characters do not embody such a narrow 32 taxonomy (Fantuzzi 2000: 35-36). Although many of the characters in Theocritus seem to fall 33 into simple types--"rustics, ordinary city-people and humanized or domesticated heroes" (Zanker 1987:164)--these characters often adopt other roles. The goatherd of Idyll 3 explicitly declares his role as komastês. Damoetas in Idyll 6 plays at Polyphemus (cf. Payne 2007: 98). Polydeuces 34 attempts to posit himself and Amycus as xenoi in Idyll 22, but Amycus rejects this proposal. In 35 Idyll 7, Simichidas, a city-poet (6`$*+µ6( =- *B&,+(, 7.2), adopts the persona of herdsman-poet (7.91-93). Character study--including characters like Lycidas, Simichidas, Daphnis, and even the Dioscuri--has become a major aspect of Theocritean scholarship. According a recent study, "the 36 projection of inner experience into imaginative role play" is a primary aspect of character in the Idylls (Payne 2007: 100). My contention is that vision helps demonstrate how these characters 37 Halliwell notes that the description of the slave and the woman in 1454a19-22 (see prev. note) may mitigate such 32 a rigid typology of characters in favor of one more attuned to "existing social categories" (Halliwell 1987: 141). Those existing social categories, however, were also likely to be fairly typological (cf. Donlan 1978 for the evolution of social categories in the Archaic and early Classical period). Zanker demonstrates the failure of Theocritus to follow Aristotle's categories for character and genre. His study 33 privileges genre as the focal term, and asserts that the combination of Theocritus' characters and the dactylic hexameter, which is usually reserved for heroic poetry, reveals a "mixed genre" (1987: 164-181). "I am going to serenade Amayrillis" -sµ#3>Q *+5J 57/ "µ#$%&&'>#, 3.1; on -sµ#3>Q as a sign of the ritual 34 kômos cf. Hunter 1999: 110. Cf. 22.54-60, especially 54: "hello, stranger (Z6D/?)" and 60: "come and you might go back home having obtained 35 guest-gifts (Z6/'Q/)." On Lycidas, cf. Gow II 129-30; Williams 1971; Brown 1981; Segal 1981: 110-166; Gutzwiller 1991: 159-171. On 36 Simichidas, cf. Gow II 127-29; Giangrande 1968; Gutzwiller 1991: 160-171. On Daphnis, cf. Gow II 1-2; Segal 1981: 25-46; Stanzel 1995: 248-68; Hunter 1999: 63-68; Christoforidou 2005: 41-50. The debate over the Dioscuri focuses on whether Idyll 22 reflects negatively or positively on their actions: Gow II 384-85; Griffiths 1976; Hutchinson 1988: 163-67; Hunter 1996: 63-73. For example, "Daphnis and Damoetas embed resistance to authoritative interpretations of the bucolic characters in 37 the collection itself. There can be no final understanding of their character because their character is essentially labile and performative. It is manifested in song rather than found through introspection; possible selves, like possible worlds, are, in Kripke's terms, stipulated, not discovered" (Payne 2007: 98). ! of ! 24 214 both assume these roles and reflect on the roles of others. Through attention to vision we can 38 see how speakers in the poems offer their own interpretations of themselves and each other. Walsh's study bridges the two models of character outlined by Aristotle and Payne. His study uses the more generous definition of êthos from Aristotle's political and ethical writings in order to create a means of understanding character in descriptive rather than prescriptive terms. According to Walsh, determining êthos "is difficult because character is not wholly natural. Social custom helps to form it, for example, in variable and unpredictable ways" (Walsh 1985: 1). This definition of êthos admits to the difficulty a reader faces in ascertaining it. Walsh's study contrasts this obscure êthos with the more easily ascertained pathos, an external response to strong sensations like pleasure or pain (1985: 1). But he admits that although êthos remains interior to the individual, characters still reveal their êthos in the way they behave. Walsh, like Payne, studies the way that speakers in the poem perform these elements of their character. My 39 own approach to character in Theocritus will consider vision--how a character sees and is seen-- to be one of the fundamental means by which a character reveals his êthos. This is a literary study of a single author, which I hope will contribute some of the data necessary to complete the kind of broad study of Hellenistic vision that Goldhill and Zanker envision. Each chapter will introduce a different aspect of vision and use this to provide new readings of several poems. The criteria by which I select the poems in each chapter are analytical, i.e. the poems have been selected according to their ability to demonstrate the different aspects of vision that I see as significant in Theocritus. I have not felt the need to follow This use of vision in the poems accords with modern ideas about the relationship of vision and subject formation 38 (cf. Blundell et al 2013: 7-8). "When they display their pathos... When Theocritus' people attempt to display their êthos..." (Walsh 1985: 2). 39 ! of ! 25 214 the customary division of Theocritus into pastoral Idylls and what is generally treated as "the second half of the corpus" (Hunter 1996: ix). Vision is a building block of social interactions 40 that bridges the generic differences, if they exist, between poems in Theocritus. I also refrain from attempting to reconstruct anything like a Theocritean poetry book. We are unable to identify what kind of poetry book Theocritus published in his lifetime, if any (cf. Gutzwiller 1996). This being said, there are clearly important relationships between some of the poems and I do not refrain from noting this when relevant. Each of the chapters which follows will pursue one of the words of my subtitle: perception, performance, and poetics. To begin, I will study how Theocritus explores the perceptive aspect of social vision, i.e. vision's capacity to assigns others to social categories based on their appearance. My second chapter will study the performative aspect of social vision, i.e. the ways that characters use acts of vision to position themselves socially. Finally, I will explore the way a reader is invited into the text as viewer, i.e. how vision is part of Theocritean poetics. This final chapter will move away from the focus on representations of vision in the first two chapters in order to explore how a reader also participates in the social drama of the text. The reader's role in the text often mirrors that of viewers in the text, i.e. characters focalize the narrative. A few times, however, the relationship between reader and text is complicated in ways that invite the reader to reflect on her role as viewer. This reflection adds a further dimension to Theocritus' exploration of social vision and confirms the importance of vision to his corpus. As a The division of Theocritus' corpus based on generic or thematic criteria was argued against by Halperin 1983, but 40 his advice has not been often heeded. Gutzwiller 1996 also suggests that the earliest editions of Theocritus' work were not focused exclusively on pastoral themes. ! of ! 26 214 whole, this project will constitute a new approach to Theocritus and a new approach to studies of vision in Hellenistic poetry as well. ! of ! 27 214 CHAPTER 1: Seeing Outsiders: Vision and the Evaluation of Others "Though I had been nearly two years on Winter I was still far from being able to see the people of the planet through their own eyes. I tried to, but my efforts took the form of self-consciously seeing a Gethenian first as a man, then as a woman, forcing him into those categories so irrelevant to his nature and so essential to my own." (Le Guin 1969: 8) When we see people, we do not simply perceive them, we also must identify them. Such an identification is often achieved through speech, such as the familiar refrain from Homeric epic: "Who are you from among men? Where is your city and your parents?" (Od. 1.170; cf. De Jong 2001: 25-26). But even before one asks such questions, visual cues may suggest certain social roles or standings. In order to determine a provisional identity based on someone's appearance, we classify a person according to the social knowledge we already have. In Ursula K. Le Guin's science fiction novel The Left Hand of Darkness, the main narrator is an ambassador on a foreign planet populated by people who seem very similar to humans except in one way: they lack dimorphous biological sex. The ambassador faces the difficulty of being immersed in a world where even his basic understanding of human physiology is not pertinent to the people with whom he interacts. His unfamiliarity with their bodies means that he often misunderstands the social roles that their appearance indicates. Or rather, his reliance on roles delineated by dimorphous biological sex leads him to assume certain roles that are irrelevant to these people. As with much science fiction, this story offers an exaggerated version of a situation that occurs regularly in our daily lives. Personal appearance plays an important function in the establishment of social roles or the confirmation of established social roles. The difficulty faced by Le Guin's narrator is an excellent representation of the experience of anyone who confronts someone new. In essence, this passage reveals that when we see someone we never see them through a completely objective lens. Instead, our perception is colored by categories which serve ! of ! 28 214 to contextualize what we see. One might correlate this conclusion with the axiom that "seeing is a theory-laden activity." I will briefly review some of the arguments for the governance of our 41 vision by social categories before moving on to discuss the way these categories can be found in the poetry of Theocritus. Recent science has confirmed the theory-ladenness of perception. The immediate perceptions of an individual (or "early vision") may not be subject to a cognitive filter of categorical knowledge (Pylyshyn 1999: 361-64), but as soon as the data of this perception are recognized as part of a social interaction with other humans the tendency of the brain to apply categories arises (Bruce et al 1999: 369-70). In a similar way, vision can permit one to identify specific features of an individual's appearance and to make inferences from these features that lead to categorization (Brighenti 2007: 333-34). Although such categorization often functions on the basis of previous perceptions, one's perceptions also may be affected by social categories that arise from social discourse (Brighenti 2007: 327-330). For example, although there may be a benefit to recognizing criminals based on their appearances, this practice has a negative impact on the lives of young black men in America, who tend to be regarded as threatening regardless of whether they have committed a crime or not (Welch 2007). This categorical way of characterizing an entire group seems to arise not from perception itself but from pre-conceptions which are integrated into the immediate cognitive processing of sensory data. Such inferences are often not recognized by the perceiver as a conscious judgement (Brighenti 2007: 334). This idea has already been applied to Theocritus although only to the ecphrasis of Idyll 15 (Goldhill 1994: 210). 41 ! of ! 29 214 It is not possible to escape some form of categorical classification, since these categories are the building blocks of culture. For Clifford Geertz, cultural information determines not just our perceptions, but all of our actions (Geertz 1973: 50): We live, as one writer has neatly put it, in an 'information gap.' Between what our body tells us and what we have to know in order to function, there is a vacuum we must fill ourselves, and we fill it with information (or misinformation) provided by our culture. This cultural information often takes the form of typologies which prize a normative ideal over any type which reveals some deviation (Geertz 1973: 51-53). Geertz recognizes that such 42 typologies do not represent a natural order or universal definition of humanity. Perhaps as a consequence of Geertz's work among others, the last thirty years have seen the theory of social construction become almost ubiquitous in our understanding of the way that individual categories of identity are developed within and by social discourse. For Ian Hacking, these 43 categories, some more mutable than others, are part of a process he calls "making up people" (Hacking 1999). Categorizing people makes them socially intelligible, and also delimits their social influence or power (Hacking 1999: 163-64). So if we return to the notion that we may unconsciously categorize individuals based on how they appear to our vision, we can see how vision can quietly serve as a strong means of enforcing social norms and expressing power. Cf. Zerubavel 1997: 7: "I experience the world not only personally, through my own senses, but also 42 impersonally, through my mental membership in social communities" (emphasis in original) and 31: "the schematic mental structures that help us make sense of what we perceive through our senses, for example, are usually based on intersubjective contextualized typifications. Society, in short, plays a major role in organizing our 'optical' predispositions." The seminal text in this line of inquiry is Berger and Luckman's The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise on 43 the Sociology of Knowledge (1967). More recent work in this field has been summarized by Zerubavel 1997. ! of ! 30 214 The power inherent in vision is a perennial concern for Foucault, who often considered 44 the way that vision functioned in restrictive social institutions like hospitals and prisons. He famously articulates a direct relation between vision and power in his discussion of Bentham's Panopticon--a prison in which every cell can be seen from a central point. In such a structure, 45 the simple act of viewing the prisoners indicates their subordination to the guard, because if they do anything forbidden they can be caught and punished. In such a situation, the power of vision trumps that of speech to control behavior, but still requires social categories of right and wrong which allow the guard to label what he sees as acceptable behavior or unacceptable behavior. If one then attempts to extend the logic of this thought experiment to the world outside the prison-- a world in which individuals all act as guard and inmate--one finds it necessary to develop further social categories that permit the evaluation of others. Foucault himself hints at just such a necessity when he admits that "sociological knowledge" and "opinion" accompany vision in public situations where the power structure is not made implicit by an architectural structure such as the Panopticon (Foucault 1980: 151-54). In sum, vision in social situations is always more than simple perception. It creates its own architecture based on social categories, which governs the social world as it is perceived. The poetry of Theocritus and the social worlds it creates are governed by their own pre-existing architecture: the social models and literary precedents that inform his poems (Hunter 1996). Because this poetry is fictional and draws upon centuries of literary tradition, it does not represent immediate truths about the world in which it was written, Hacking's theory is in large part indebted to Foucault's ideas about the "constitution of subjects" (Hacking 1999: 44 164; cf. Hacking 2004). Discussed in Foucault 1995: 195-228 and 1980: 146-165. 45 ! of ! 31 214 but, like Le Guin's speculative fiction, it may draw attention to the social categories and processes with which its author and audience were concerned or anxious. 1. Categorical Logic and Aeschinas' Appearance in Idyll 14 A cluster of visual descriptors at the opening of Idyll 14 illustrates how vision can use implicit social categories for an evaluative function within a text. Social categories that would be familiar to readers of the poem are used to describe the appearance of lovelorn Aeschinas. In the poem, Aeschinas encounters his friend Thyonichus and complains of some recent troubles (14.2-3). Thyonichus responds with a brief description of his friend's appearance (14.3-7): {|. 5#C5? @$# &6*5B(, <a µ;35#Z *+&q( +}5+(, H%35#&4+, >] -'-,//+,. 5+,+C5+( *$s#/ 5,( H8'-65+ r%0#I+$,-51(, o<$.( -H/%*B>25+(M ~02/#D+( >? S8#5? lµ6/. Ä. x$#5+ µ7/ -#J 5X/+(; {|. =µJ/ >+-6D, V*5c H&6;$Q. Thy.: That explains why you're so slight, and all that mustache, and crusty curls. Just such a Pythagorist showed up the other day, wan and unshod. Said he was Athenian. Aes.: Was he in love too? Thy.: I think so, with wheat bread. Thyonichus' description playfully insults Aeschinas by dwelling on his sordid appearance and comparing him with the Pythagorist. The correlative adjective 5+,+C5+( suggests that the analogy between Aeschinas and the Pythagorist is based on their comparable appearance in Thyonichus' eyes. Thyonichus' description of Aeschinas relies on several social categories to achieve its mocking effect. The comparison with the Athenian Pythagorist introduces both ethnicity and ! of ! 32 214 creed or profession as categories into which Aeschinas can be sorted because of his appearance. 46 While the precise connotation of "Pythagorist" and "Athenian" might vary depending on the reader, Thyonichus's joke at the philosopher's expense marks them as pejorative. Thyonichus 47 presents the Pythagorist as a type character: the impoverished philosopher (Gow II 248; Dover 1971: 190). His Athenian origin seems to be mentioned to clarify some aspect of the man's character, although the precise meaning is unclear. The Athenian-ness of the philosopher 48 perhaps confirms him as a type character because he comes from a place where philosophers are abundant. Thyonichus uses both ethnic and vocational categories to teasingly classify his friend as a squalid ascetic. This label contrasts with the sympotic male role that Aeschinas occupies in his own story (cf. Burton 1995: 24-27). Thyonichus' description of Aeschinas in lines 3-4 introduces attributes of gender and status to contrast him with a typical sympotic male. The description of Aeschinas utilizes a chiastic construction that begins and ends with words usually associated with the beauty of women or young men (&6*5B(, -'-,//+,; cf. Gow II 248). The inner descriptions in the chiastic construction recall the unkempt state of one in grief or of the poverty-stricken (µ;35#Z *+&q(, The followers of Pythagoras seem to have been divided into two groups, those who studied his teachings and 46 those who practiced his lifestyle. The scholia distinguish between the two, the former, Pythagorikos, the latter Pythagoristês. Gow takes Pythagoriktas as equivalent to Pythagoristês (II 248), which the scholia identify as one who "follows the precepts of Pythagoras but not being of his opinion" (Å 14.5a.18-19) or "one who longs for the precepts of Pythagoras, except not being according to his example or doing the things of that one" (Å 14.5c.10-11). On the other hand, the Theocritean term combines the endings of -ikos and -istês, so as to make such a distinction unnecessary. This differs from the commonly laudatory depiction of gaunt philosophers in statuary (Zanker 1995: 90-128). The 47 statues eulogize the great sacrifice of the philosophers in the pursuit of knowledge. Thyonichus' joke relies on the replacement of Aeschinas' idealized principle of "love" (cf. philosophia or "love of knowledge") with the simple drive of hunger. Another passage where ethnicity is closely tied to character can be found in Praxinoa's proud recitation of her 48 Syracusan lineage before the stranger who insults her manner of speech (Id. 15.89-95). Praxinoa defends not only her manner of speech, but her right to speak freely in public (Burton 1995: 58-60). Her ethnic heritage, which she extends back to Corinth and the mythical forebear Bellerophon, justifies this right. ! of ! 33 214 H%35#&4+,). The juxtaposition of these two types of descriptors seems incongruous. If, as 49 Burton claims, this poem is about different formulations of masculinity (Burton 1995: 35-37), these adjectives all point to categories of identity outside the traditionally masculine. Women and young boys both occupy gender roles that make them sexual objects for males. Likewise, beggars or those in grief occupy a different status from that of the normal male. Thyonichus' description of Aeschinas relies on references to both destitution and the feminine or effeminate. 50 When added to the categories evoked by the comparison with the Pythagorist, this representation of what Thyonichus sees reveals a surprisingly comprehensive list of categorical attributes, including ethnicity, status, gender, and vocation. Altogether these roles stand in opposition to the normative male role of soldier that Aeschinas decides to assume at the end of the poem (14.55-56). Thyonichus describes not only how Aeschinas appears but also who he appears to be, or rather who he appears not to be, i.e. the normative adult male. The description of his appearance that opens the poem utilizes many different categories to produce a negative image of masculinity. Aeschinas reveals the cause of this negative male image when he describes the embarrassing loss of his lover, Cynisca, at the symposium. In brief, the revelers--three men and Cynisca--play a game where they reveal whom they desire (Id. 14.18-19). Cynisca, however, remains silent and Aeschinas realizes that her feelings are given to a young man called Lycus H%35#&4+, elsewhere describes Odysseus disguised as a beggar (Od. 19.327); Demeter disguised as a beggar (Call. 49 Hymn 6.16); the abject Phineus, tormented by harpies (AR Arg. 2.200); and a plowman after a long day's work (AR Arg. 1.1175). µ;35#Z seems to refer to an "ill-shaven upper lip" (Gow II 248), which suits one preoccupied by grief or poverty, although its exact meaning is unclear. The juxtaposition between his squalor and qualities of beauty may use the descriptors of beauty as a means of 50 ironically highlighting Aeschinas's squalor. Nevertheless, these qualities of beauty are gendered and do not reflect a typical description of adult male beauty. I do not think the irony prevents these words from signifying their representative categories. ! of ! 34 214 (20-24). The symposium was "a defining institution of aristocratic male culture" (Burton 1992: 51 231), and Aeschinas' embarrassing encounter with Cynisca alienates him from the other male symposiasts who make jokes about him and Cynisca. His adoption of the role of soldier at the 52 end of the poem allows him to reassert a normative male role. 53 Aeschinas' transformation from failed symposiast to soldier is also accompanied by visual markers of status. He echoes the image that Thyonichus describes, saying that he and Cynisca have been apart for so long that she doesn't know whether he has a "Thracian haircut" (+A> 6) {$f-,35J -4-#$µ#, / +R>6, 14.46-7). The precise meaning of this phrase has been debated, but as Gow notes, the importance of the description is that it claims "she has not seen me, and therefore does not know that my appearance is as described in [line] 4" (Gow II 256). 54 The normative male role as soldier, which he adopts, is also described in terms of appearance: 6L 5+, -#57 >6Z,./ Kµ+/ H$43-6, / &c*+( @-$+/ *6$+/z30#,, =*? Hµ8+54$+,( >] W6W#-d( "If it seems good to you to pin the edges of your cloak on your right shoulder, and standing on both feet..." (14.65-66). Thyonichus describes a dress and a posture, which provides a clear alternative Lycus' appearance is also described and contrasts with the shabbiness of Aeschinas' appearance at the start of the 51 poem: 6Gµ1-2(, g*#&B(, *+&&+D( >+-4Q/ -#&.( Çµ6/ "tall, soft-skinned, seeming beautiful to many" (14.25). This description might be considered conventionally attractive. The effeminate character of his soft skin can be explained by his youth; Lycus is the son of a neighbor (14.24). That Aeschinas loses Cynisca's affection because of a boy only adds to his humiliation. Cf. Burton 1992: 237; Id. 14.30-31: <o É#$,3#D+( ?p+/ =µ./ É;-+/? Ñ>6/ H*? H$<z(, / {633#&,-B/ 5, µ4&,3µ#, 52 -#-#J 8$4/6( "then the Larisan man sung 'My Wolf' from the beginning, some Thessalian tune, cruel-hearted man." "Through military life Aeschinas can ... regain the male camaraderie lost when he dropped out of the sympotic 53 community" (Burton 1992: 239). Gow inadvertently captures the import of vision in this description by translating the next phrase in line 47 (É;-+( 54 /C/ *1/5#) as "Now Wolf is everything in her eyes" (Gow I 107; my emphasis). ! of ! 35 214 to the disheveled appearance that Aeschinas presents at the outset. As encouragement for this 55 change of appearances, Thyonichus utilizes the familiar threat of approaching old age, which is another way in which an individual can fail to meet the normative male ideal. Thyonichus warns that (14.68-70): ...H*. -$+518Q/ *6&Bµ630# *1/56( I2$#&4+,, -#J =*,3<6$d =( I4/%/ k$*6, &6%-#'/Q/ n <$B/+(M We all become aged from the temples, and whitening time creeps row by row along the jaw. Despite the metaphorical content of these lines, they clearly indicate a visual change of hair color that appears at the temples and in the beard. This final image of bodily difference provides one more contrast to the normative male body which serves as the foil for much of the imagery in the poem. The categories that Thyonichus uses to tease Aeschinas in Idyll 14 all are recognizably Greek. Much of the rest of this chapter will be interested in two figures who evade the ideals of Greekness and even humanity. Polyphemus is perhaps the most famous monster in antiquity. His representation in the Odyssey demonstrates the many ways in which Odysseus is quintessentially The visual aspect of the phrase =*? Hµ8+54$+,( >] W6W#-d( may be derived from Archilochus' famous description 55 of a general, to which it likely alludes (frag. 60): +A 8,&4Q µ4I#/ 35$#52I./ +A>] >,#*6*&,Iµ4/+/ +A>] W+35$;<+,3, I#C$+/ +A>? G*6Z%$2µ4/+/M H&&1 µ+, 3µ,-$B( 5,( 6L2 -#J *6$J -/Oµ#( ,>6D/ w+,-B(. H38#&4Q( W6W2-d( *+33', -#$>'2( *&4Q(. I don't like a tall general or one with a wide stance. nor one who's vain about his braids, nor one who's shaven. But let me have someone who's small and crooked in his calves to see, standing steadily on his feet, and full of heart. The phrase which Theocritus copies, H38#&4Q( W6W2-d( *+33' (Gow II 260), seems to be better grouped with the many visual descriptions that precede it than with the non-visual description of character which follows it. Each of the descriptions in this list is visual, as the epexegetical infinitive in the third line emphasizes, except the last, which creates a surprising turn at the end of the poem. Will notes that this fragment offers a combination of visual description and social judgement (1962: 293). ! of ! 36 214 Greek and human. The Cyclops serves as a foil who exists on the periphery of both the civilized world and the divide between man and nature (see below). The latter is perhaps best exemplified by Odysseus' first description of Polyphemus' appearance (Od. 9.190-92): -#J I7$ 0#Cµ? =545%-5+ *6&s$,+/, +A>] =Ö-6, H/>$' I6 3,5+81Iu, H&&7 w'u G&O6/5, GT2&c/ V$4Q/, U 56 8#'/65#, +R+/ H*? @&&Q/. For he was fashioned a monstrous marvel, and he didn't look like a bread-eating man, but like a wooded peak of the lofty mountains, which stands out alone apart from the rest. The passage marks Polyphemus as more like a feature of the landscape than a man. The adjective pelôrion, "monstrous," does not immediately contribute to this perception, since the word often describes heroes like Achilles and Hector in the Iliad (cf. Il. 11.820 and 21.527). But when Polyphemus is later called pelôr (Od. 9.408), he joins the class of beings exemplified by Scylla (called pelôr at Od. 12.87) and Python (called pelôr at Hymn. Aph. 374). In Idyll 22, Amycus, the king of the Bebrycians, seems to be modeled on Polyphemus (cf. Laursen 1992: 77-81), although he is clearly identified as a man. He is also described as if a fixture of the landscape (see below). He is called "terrible to see" (22.45) and his torso is called "monstrous" (pelôria, 22.46). In some ways, Amycus seems more directly modeled on the Homeric Polyphemus than Theocritus' Polyphemus is. Amycus confronts a group of Greek sailors at the boundary of a foreign land and shows himself hostile to Greek customs. Theocritus' Polyphemus bears traces of his monstrous forebear but generally behaves in the fashion of a lovesick Greek. In this regard, Polyphemus resembles Aeschinas more than the Homeric monster. Despite these differences, Idyll 11 and Idyll 22 each illustrate the epigraph to this chapter in their own way. Le Guin's novel depicts an ambassador to an alien planet, while Idyll 22 ! of ! 37 214 depicts Polydeuces' attempt at diplomacy in a foreign land. Polyphemus is perhaps an even more fitting parallel, as he attempts to contemplate a being from the abyss of the sea, just as Le Guin's narrator contemplates beings from across the abyss of outer space. He longs to go among Galatea and the other sea dwellers (Id. 11.54-56, 60-62), but since he cannot do so, we observe him on the shore struggling to understand someone who comes from a world radically different from his and whose behavior defies his expectations. The similarities and differences between these two poems with regard to the role of vision will allow me to show the range of ways that vision imposes social categories on others in Theocritus. 2. Sizing up the Competition: Vision and Alterity in Idyll 22 Theocritus' "Hymn to the Dioscuri" (Idyll 22) offers an excellent opportunity to explore the relationship between vision and identifying categories with which this chapter opens. The poem makes a striking use of pairs and oppositions (cf. Hunter 1996: 46-76), the most obvious of which can be found in pairs of characters. The Dioscuri are gods. Their opponents are mortals. 56 Polydeuces fights a barbarian, Castor, a Greek. To my knowledge, no one has explored the significance of this last opposition. For those who focus on the divinity of the Dioscuri, the poem's hymnic frame is key. But this hymnic frame strikes an oddly discordant note. The proem (22.1-26) focuses on the Dioscuri's role as saviors for men on the edge of disaster (H/0$s*Q/ 3Q5X$#( =*J Z%$+C x>2 =B/5Q/, 22.6), especially those caught in a storm at sea (22.8-22). The epilogue offers the moral that "it is no trivial thing to battle with the sons of Tyndareus" and The poem calls them both "sons of Zeus" (^,.( %Es, 22.1, 137). The divinity of both twins is especially evident in 56 the second half of the poem, in which Castor defeats the Apharetidae. In other versions of this story, e.g. Pindar Nemean 10, Castor is fatally wounded, and Polydeuces agrees to alternate between states of death and divinity in order to save his brother. In Theocritus Castor's victory gives the poem no opportunity to offer this aetiology of the twins' unusual alternating divine status, but it also gives no opportunity to reveal Castor as mortal. Theocritus makes both twins fully divine (cf. Hunter 1996: 67). ! of ! 38 214 concludes with a perplexing suggestion that the Dioscuri play a major role in the Iliad (212-223). The two men who confront the Dioscuri, Amycus and Lynceus, do find themselves 57 on the edge of disaster, but that disaster comes at the hands of the divine twins themselves. This juxtaposition of vengefulness and benevolence finds a parallel in the two narratives within the hymnic frame: Polydeuces shows clemency to the arrogant barbarian king Amycus, while Castor brutally kills his fellow Argonaut Lynceus. The two halves of the poem seem to offer different moral messages. The Polydeuces narrative offers a parochial and patronizing morality story that shows why barbarians should behave kindly to Greeks. The Lynceus narrative, on the other hand, has often been read as critical of Greek traditional culture. My own attempt at a unified reading 58 of this poem will carefully explore the way the two stories contrast identifying categories and relate these identifying categories to the characters' vision. The short verbal exchange between Amycus and Polydeuces reveals conflicting modes of identifying strangers and emphasizes vision (22.54-69): rÜ. <#D$6, Z6D/?, U5,( =33'. 5'/6( W$+5+', j/ U>6 <c$+(; á. <#'$Q *c(, U56 5’ @/>$#( n$c 5+q( µ9 *$J/ b*Q*#; rÜ. 01$36,M µO5’ H>'-+%( µO5’ =Z H>'-Q/ 810, &6;336,/. á. 0#$34Q, -+A- =- 36C µ6 >,>13-630#, 5B>’ S+,-6/. rÜ. @I$,+( 6R, *$.( *1/5# *#&'I-+5+( à>’ G*6$B*52(; á. 5+,B3>’ +v+/ n$â(M 5X( 3X( I6 µ]/ +A- =*,W#'/Q. rÜ. S&0+,(, -#J Z6/'Q/ -6 5%<d/ *1&,/ +L-#>’ E-1/+,(. á. µO56 3; µ6 Z6'/,h6, 51 5’ =Z =µ6C +A- =/ Y5+'µu. rÜ. >#,µB/,’, +A>’ N/ 5+C>6 *,6D/ t>#5+( 3;I6 >+'2(; á. I/s36#,, 6L 36% >'T+( H/6,µ4/# <6'&6# 54$36,. For a summary of this problem and its solutions, cf. Sens 1997: 218-219. 57 Griffiths 1976: 355, Laursen 1992: 72. Moulton offers one of the earliest and perhaps clearest articulations of this 58 conclusion: "Theocritus has deliberately accompanied his stylistic contrast between the two major sections of the poem with a moral contrast: Pollux is the vehicle for civilizing values, Castor the representative of the old heroic mores, a code of force which Theocritus, no doubt, found quite as objectionable as the old fashioned poetry which embodied it" (1973: 46). Cf. Hutchinson 1988: 164. Hunter dismisses this reading as irrelevant due to the divinity of the Dioscuri (1996: 65-73). To me, this solution resembles a deus ex machina. I will attempt to resolve the poem's difficulties without setting them aside completely. ! of ! 39 214 rÜ. @$I%$+( ä 5'( n µ,30B(—=$6D(; —ã -4/ 36 *'0+,µ6/; á. 6v( Y/J <6D$#( @6,$+/ =/#/5'+( H/>$J -#5#351(. rÜ. *%Iµ1<+( ä -#J *+33J 04/Q/ 3-4&+(, † bµµ#5# >’ V$01; á. *qZ >,#56,/1µ6/+( 38654$2( µ9 86'>6+ 54</2(. rÜ. 5'( I1$, U5u <6D$#( -#J =µ+q( 3%/6$6'3Q Eµ1/5#(; á. =IIq( n$â(M +A I;//,( =d/ -6-&O360’ n *;-52(. Po.: Good day, stranger, whoever you are. What men possess this land? Am.: How can I have a good day when I see men I have not seen before? Po.: Never fear. Know that you see neither unjust men nor the progeny of unjust men. Am.: I am not afraid, and it is not fitting that I learn this from you. Po.: Are you a savage, haughty and hostile in all things? Am.: Just the sort of man you see, but I do not set foot on your country. Po.: Come, and you might go back home with gifts of friendship in possession. Am.: Do not try to receive me as a guest, and there is nothing from my hand for you. Po.: Kind sir, might you not let us drink this water? Am.: You will know when thirst parches your slack lips. Po.: What silver or price--will you say?--with which we might persuade you? Am.: Lift up your hands and stand opposite, one on one, man to man. Po.: In boxing or striking the legs with the feet and straight at the eyes? Am.: With fists. Don't spare any of your skill in the struggle. Po.: Who is the one with whom I'll strive with my hands and straps? Am.: You see him before you. He's no girly man and he will be called "The Boxer." Repeated reference to vision suggests its importance in the conflict between Amycus and Polydeuces. Five references to vision appear in under 20 lines, excluding ommata in line 66 which editors mark as corrupt. Amycus controls the visual motif in this passage; he initiates it 59 and makes four references to Polydeuces' one. He refers to the Dioscuri and their crew as "men 60 [he] has not seen before," with the implication that he will only welcome men he has seen. Amycus seems to see the strangers as a threat, and responds in kind. His other two references to vision draw attention to his own appearance before Polydeuces' eyes. In line 59, he avoids This phrase seems to be corrupt, but no solution has been agreed upon. Sens reviews all the proposed readings 59 (1997: 126-27). All MS and papyrus readings maintain the same first word, bµµ#5#, "eyes." There may be an additional reference to vision in Amycus' lack of concern with whether he and Polydeuces "look 60 like cocks or lions" (V$/'0633,/ =+,-B56( 6L56 &4+%3,, 22.73). ! of ! 40 214 Polydeuces' question about his savagery by drawing attention to his appearance as "just the sort of man you see" (5+,B3>’ +v+/ n$â(, 22.59). And in the final line of the passage, Amycus reveals himself as Polydeuces' opponent using similar phrasing: "You see him before you" (=IIq( n$â(, 22.69). Amycus identifies the strangers according to his own vision and encourages Polydeuces to identify him using vision as well. Here as in the the boxing match which occurs in lines 80-130, the god and the king oppose each other, but the conflict in these lines is ideological rather than physical. Amycus and Polydeuces take different approaches to identifying strangers. Polydeuces prefers the verbal, heroic method of declaring statuses and social connections, while Amycus bases his evaluation of strangers on vision alone. Polydeuces' initial question and his next two responses to Amycus seek to apply social categories to himself and his interlocutor (see below). Amycus, on the other hand, avoids Polydeuces' attempts at identification, and promotes a more absolute form of identification based on visual recognition. Amycus denies Polydeuces any opportunity to propose a more complex identity for himself and his men, and forecloses any possibility for the Dioscuri to supplement his perception by proclaiming their own identities, because nothing they can say will change them into men he has seen before. ! of ! 41 214 Polydeuces, on the other hand, makes several attempts to verbally identify his interlocutor. First he asks who inhabits this land. When Amycus expresses disfavor at not 61 62 recognizing the Argonauts, Polydeuces tries to reassure him that they are "not unjust." This is one of many verbal labels which Polydeuces applies to himself and his opponent in these lines. Perhaps most importantly, he greets Amycus as a "stranger" or "guest-friend" (Z6D/?, 2.54), and seems to expect some form of hospitality. When Amycus does not offer any, he requests to at 63 least be allowed water (22.62). Polydeuces also offers to exchange guest gifts (Z6/'Q/, 22.60), but Amycus declines (µO56 3; µ6 Z6'/,h6, 22.61). After Polydeuces' victory, he makes Amycus swear an oath not to "willingly behave grievously towards strangers" (Z6'/+,3,/ Y-d/ H/,2$.( S3630#,, 22.134). Critics have long recognized the importance of xenia or "guest friendship" to this episode (Moulton 1973: 46; Cameron 1995: 432). Z4/+(/ Z6D/+( is a social category that 64 identifies Greek males of the upper-class, and xenia is a common means in Homeric epic for two individuals of the Greek noble class to reinforce their own status and power (Finley 1982: To seek someone's identity directly and immediately would be inconsistent with Homeric custom regarding 61 strangers, in which the host must ask guest for his name after providing hospitality (Reece 1993: 26). Post-Homeric practice, however, seems less opposed to immediate inquiry, e.g. Aes. Supp. 234-36, 247-48: King: From what country can I call this throng dressed un-Greek-like, indulging in barbarian robes and diadems... Chorus: Do I address you as either a citizen, a staff-bearing temple guard, or leader of a city? He asks directly who the inhabitants of the area are, but also indirectly invites Amycus to reveal his own identity. 62 In order for Amycus to know who the inhabitants are, he would have to be either an inhabitant himself or a neighbor who is passing though the area. If he should turn out to be either a passerby or a native, he would be able to either provide the Argonauts with needed hospitality, or put them in contact with someone who can. By addressing Amycus as "stranger" and further including the indefinite relative clause U5,( =33' "whoever you are," he indicates the relevance of Amycus' identity to his question. Palumbo Stracca distinguishes between scenes of guest-friendship and scenes in which a stranger seeks 63 information in a new land, as Odysseus does with Nausicaa and a young man who is actually Athena (2000:175-81). She concludes that the latter is more likely a model for the encounter between Amycus and Polydeuces, but the prevalence of references to xenia in the Amycus episode suggests that even if we acknowledge the different types of encounter which Palumbo Stracca identifies, Idyll 22 combines them both rather than producing an imitation of one to the exclusion of the other. The Dioscuri seem to be particularly associated with defenses of guest friendship, cf. Sens 1997: 19, on Paus. 64 3.16.2-3. ! of ! 42 214 99-102, Herman 1987: 34-36). Polydeuces' offer of guest-friendship shows that he sees the world as a Greek and assumes everyone he meets shares the same values. By offering Amycus guest- friendship, Polydeuces implicitly invites him to participate in Greek culture. When Amycus refuses, Polydeuces must "civilize" him, a moral of this story that has been recognized since Wilamowitz. But before Polydeuces gets to punish Amycus for refusing to offer hospitality, he 65 assigns Amycus to another category. After Amycus preemptively rejects Polydeuces' offer of guest friendship by revealing his distaste at seeing strangers, his hostility provokes Polydeuces to propose a new way of identifying him. Polydeuces asks if he is "savage" (@I$,+(, 22.58). This term commonly appears in descriptions of foreigners with customs contrary to those of the Greeks. A fitting example is expressed by Odysseus when he lands on Scheria (Od. 6.119-121): 66 å µ+, =Is, 54Q/ #ç56 W$+5c/ =( I#D#/ E-1/Q; l w? +` I? GW$,35#' 56 -#J @I$,+, +A>] >'-#,+,, l6 8,&BZ6,/+,, -#' 38,/ /B+( =35J 06+%>O(; O me! To the land of which mortals' do I now come? Are they violent and savage and unjust or are they kind to strangers and have god-fearing minds? Odysseus is concerned whether he will be received as a guest and treated like a xenos or whether he will continue to encounter beings who treat him as the Lastrygonians and Cyclops have. 67 Like Amycus, those hosts practice improper hospitality. Amycus' refusal to be identified by the Greek social category xenos leads Polydeuces to classify him using this common category for "Der hellenische Heros ist eine zivilisatorische Macht; er will die Barbaren nicht mehr ausrotten, sondern 65 hellenisieren" (Wilamowitz 1906: 186). Cf. Laursen 1992: 77-81 and Palumbo Stracca 2000: 180. This passage appears again when Odysseus lands on Ithaca (Od. 13.200-202), and a modified version of the 66 passage appears when Odysseus expresses interest in learning more about the Cyclopes (9.174-76). A similar example of @I$,+, can be found in Herodotus' description of the Man-eaters, who although men 67 (@/0$Q*+,), obey no laws and eat other men (Hist. 4.106). ! of ! 43 214 non-Greeks. Amycus refuses this label as well, just as he refuses Polydeuces' attempt to classify himself and his men, in accord with another Greek category, as "not unjust." Of course, Amycus' refusal of all of these Greek labels only confirms that he is "savage" from a Greek perspective. This poem tells a myth not just about the Dioscuri but about identity. Two methods of identification conflict: that of Amycus, which is based on immediate perception, and that of Polydeuces, which is based on the proclamation of cultural categories. Polydeuces' own method of identifying strangers is not visual but discursive. He first asks Amycus who the inhabitants are (22.54) and then asks him if he is a savage (22.58). This focus on the oral declaration of identity is consistent with the increased amount of verbal communication necessary to maintain the type of social ties, i.e. xenia, that Polydeuces proposes. The physical confrontation that Amycus prefers requires significantly less or even no verbal communication, as can be seen when Polydeuces asks Amycus to clarify the rules of the match (22.66). Amycus' reply occupies a single syllable: *qZ "with fists" (22.67). Amycus finally identifies himself verbally to 68 Polydeuces, but only after he has completed his visual revelation of himself as the opponent: =IIq( n$â(M +A I;//,( =d/ -6-&O360’ n *;-52( (22.69). These two methods of identification artificially separate the visual from the discursive and allow them to compete through the avatars of Amycus and Polydeuces, respectively. Polydeuces' victory in this fight then becomes not only a victory of Greek over barbarian but an emblem of the guiding force Greek cultural norms have over perception. However, the seeming mutual exclusivity of verbal and visual identification that The rest of the line is occupied with what seems at first to be an honorable encouragement, but on second 68 reflection is a taunt: "don't spare any of your skill in the struggle" (22.67). Amycus has just denied Polydeuces and his men any accommodation, including permission to drink water. He "spares" everything, except violence. ! of ! 44 214 emerges from this passage is not absolute. A similar emphasis on Greek perception occurs when Polydeuces sees Amycus before they speak. Before Amycus' dialogue with Polydeuces, he is spotted as the twins survey the landscape and is described in terms that make him seem more geological than human. After the Argonauts land, the Dioscuri observe the countryside: "Castor swift of steed and ruddy-faced Polydeuces both wandered away and left their comrades and they saw the diversity of the wild woods (*#/5+'2/ ... 026;µ6/+, @I$,+/ t&2/) on the hill" (22.34-36). As they scan the 69 countryside, they discover Amycus who is described as if he is another object on the landscape (22.44-50): S/0# >? H/9$ G*4$+*&+( =/Oµ6/+( =/>,1#3-6, >6,/.( )>6D/, 3-&2$#D3, 560&#3µ4/+( +e#5# *%Iµ#D(M 35O06# >? =38#'$Q5+ *6&s$,# -#J *&#5q /c5+/ 3#$-J 3,>2$6'P, 38%$O&#5+( +v# -+&+33B(M =/ >] µ;6( 356$6+D3, W$#<'+3,/ @-$+/ G*? Kµ+/ k35#3#/ à;56 *45$+, n&+'5$+<+,, +t356 -%&'/>Q/ <6,µ1$$+%( *+5#µ.( µ6I1&#,( *6$,4Z636 >'/#,(M There a mighty man was sitting in the sun, terrible to look at, beaten in the ears by hard fists. His monstrous chest and broad back curved with iron flesh, like a hammered colossus. And down from the top of his shoulders the muscles on his solid arms stood like round boulders which a winter-flowing river spun with great eddies and polished. This description emphasizes the power and force of his body through hyperbolic comparisons with nature, but these terms also assimilate him to the landscape. The description begins with a familiar way of including landscape features in a list (S/0#). The verb =/>,1Q "inhabit/ appear 70 The wood, like Amycus, is called @I$,+(. This parallel may be significant given the number of other details about 69 Amycus which parallel qualities of nature (see below). Cf. Od. 7.112-135 (4 times), Hes. Theog. 729-819 (10 times). 70 ! of ! 45 214 in the day" is more fitting for a non-human than a man. The words that describe his flesh evoke 71 the earth--iron and boulders--and his might is described as if acquired by a geological process. Amycus, despite his identification as H/9$, is not described much like a human (@/0$Q*+(). His ears are described as "beaten" (560&#3µ4/+(), a fitting description of a boxer, but two lines later, in the same metrical position, his flesh is called iron (3#$-J 3,>2$6'P), his torso, "hammered" (38%$O&#5+(). These details commonly lead critics to compare the famous "Terme boxer," although the association is somewhat tenuous (cf. Hunter 1996: 62). But we do not 72 need to see any direct relationship between a specific statue and the poem to recognize that Amycus is depicted as statue-like (cf. Zanker 2004: 36-38). To liken him to a statue further emphasizes his visuality and makes him subject to an artistic gaze which frames him in implicitly Greek terms. 73 The poem differentiates the two modes of vision practiced by Amycus and Polydeuces. Polydeuces' vision appears in the locus amoenus, and preemptively categorizes Amycus as less than human. The stichomythia refers to the vision of both men, but only on Amycus' terms. He does not see categorically as Polydeuces does, but instead uses vision as a catalyst for violence. Despite this seeming difference, Polydeuces' mode of vision can be read into the stichomythia. Deixis--pointing at something by means of linguistic markers--can be visual, textual or Elsewhere this verb describes moon beams (Hom. Hymn 32.6), a lion (Opp. Cyn. 4.81), a wolf (Opp. Cyn. 3.315), 71 and a frog (AP 5.292.6). In Theocritus, this verb describes shepherds sending the herd out to pasture (=/>,1#3-+/ / *+,µ4/6( ... µX&#, Id. 16.38). This is the lone transitive use of the verb in Greek, but even here, it seems to account for an animal inhabiting a landscape. Nicosia suggests that the lines have a Hellenistic statue in mind, although not specifically the Terme boxer (1968: 72 55-65). Sens, however, notes that 38%$O&#5+( +v# -+&+33B( recalls a dedicatory inscription for an Archaic statue of Zeus at Olympia (1997: 115). Goldhill describes the way that artistic viewing is implicated in Greek cultural knowledge. He notes in particular 73 the "connection of the discourse of viewing (art) with other normative discourses of Hellenistic society" (1994: 216). ! of ! 46 214 imaginative, i.e. it can refer to something before the eyes of a person, to a part of a text, or to something that must be imagined in the mind (Felson 2004: 253-55).Twice Amycus encourages Polydeuces to look at his body (n$f!, 22.59, 69). The deixis is made explicit by the deictic marker ->6 in 5+,B3>? (line 59) which directs Polydeuces' vision to Amycus' body, and by =IIq( (line 69) which creates a spatial relationship between Polydeuces and Amycus and draws Polydeuces' attention to what lies near. There are two ways of reading Amycus' deictics. In the context of Amycus' dialogue with Polydeuces, these are visual deictics and draw attention to his body and its might. For the reader, who recalls the detailed description of his body which 74 immediately precedes this exchange, the deictics draw a textual connection. What is visual deixis for Polydeuces becomes textual deixis for the reader. The reader does not know exactly what Polydeuces sees during the stichomythia, because it is not described by the text. But we can fill this information in based on the vivid description of Amycus through Polydeuces' eyes in the locus amoenus. This insinuation of Polydeuces' vision into the stichomythia by means of a textual deictic suggests that the conflict between Amycus and Polydeuces is not simply between vision and discourse. The instance of textual deixis works because the whole poem is verbal. Within such a verbal framework, Amycus' absolutist stance in favor of immediate perception is bound to lose. Polydeuces has already classified Amycus as non-human upon first sight. By refusing to identify himself according to Polydeuces' customs, Amycus refuses an opportunity to challenge 5+,B3>6 generally refers to some quality of the individual it describes, and that quality is often associated with the 74 body of the person. The word can refer to either bodily strength or infirmity: Il. 6.460-63 (of Hector's might), Od. 11.499-501 (of Achilles' might), Od. 19.358-360 (of Odysseus' supposed withering due to old age). Hector uses 5+,B3>6 ironically to rebuke Paris for his lack of strength (Il. 3.43-47). Perhaps most relevant to this passage is Odysseus' use of the phrase U>? =Id 5+,B3>6 (Od. 16.205) to confirm Telemachus' identification of him, when Telemachus expresses doubts because Odysseus looks like a god. Amycus' confidence in his own fighting suggests that he uses 5+,B3>6 to emphasize his own might. ! of ! 47 214 Polydeuces' perception and confirms what Polydeuces' vision has already revealed. The deictic reference to Polydeuces' gaze in the stichomythia undercuts Amycus' threats and reaffirms that vision remains reliant upon social categories. The artificial separation of visual and spoken identity in the stichomythia sets forth Amycus and Polydeuces as avatars for these social mechanisms. Amycus acts as an antagonist to the normative Greek ideals which Polydeuces supports. The boxing match provides a resolution to the conflict between Greek and other. The vision of each fighter also plays a significant role in this conflict. At the beginning 75 of the match, each fighter vies for position to have the sun at his back; Polydeuces succeeds and Amycus must fight with the sun in his eyes (22.83-86): S/0# *+&;( 38,3, µB<0+( =*6,I+µ4/+,3,/ =5;<02, n**B56$+( -#57 /c5# &1W+, 81+( à6&'+,+. )>$6'P µ4I#/ @/>$# *#$O&%06(, K r+&;>6%-6(, W1&&65+ >? H-5'/633,/ m*#/ ~µ;-+,+ *$B3Q*+/. There much toil was made for those pressing to see who would take the light of the sun at his back. And Polydeuces, by your skill you got by the great man and the whole face of Amycus was struck by the rays. Polydeuces secures the favorable position with the sun at his back and thus in the eyes of his opponent (Sens 1997: 137). Although not explicitly stated, these lines show Amycus' vision, which he has asserted so vigorously in the stichomythia, being weakened. Given the 76 importance that Amycus places on vision in the build up to the fight, this hindrance to his vision is a bad omen. The "striking" of Amycus' face by the sun's rays also foreshadows "the blows he will soon receive" (Sens 1997: 139). In fact, Polydeuces will spend the rest of the fight attacking Zanker has noted how the fight itself uses precise spatial and corporeal description to display the two fighters in a 75 virtuosic example of pictorial realism, or enargeia (Zanker 2004: 35-41). My reading of the fight will focus on the representation of vision, as in the stichomythia. Polydeuces' maneuvering also demonstrates the victory of cleverness over brute force, a common theme in 76 contrasts between Greek and non-Greek, e.g. Odysseus' mêtis vs. Polyphemus' might. ! of ! 48 214 Amycus' face. All of Polydeuces' attacks are directed above the neck, the lowest attack striking Amycus' chin. By attacking Amycus' face, Polydeuces weakens his vision and makes him 77 harder to recognize. Both of these results of Polydeuces' attacks challenge the kind of identification Amycus advocates in the stichomythia. Unsurprisingly, Amycus' vision is 78 damaged as a result of Polydeuces' attacks (22.99-101): ...+E >? mµ# *1/56( H$,35X6( -6&1>23#/, a( L>+/ k&-6# &%I$7 *6$J 35Bµ# 56 I/#0µ+;( 56M bµµ#5# >? +)>O3#/5+( H*6356'/Q5+ *$+3s*+%. All the heroes roared as they saw the painful wounds around his mouth and jaw, and his eyes were closed off with his face swollen. This passage occurs at an important point in the narration of the fight. After this, the text enters its most detailed and serious description of the fighters' maneuvers. Given Amycus' attention to 79 vision in the build up to the fight, it seems fitting to take his swollen eyes synecdochically. The incapacitation of Amycus' organs of sight signals his impending loss. 80 References to faces bolded: 5+C >? @-$+/ 5;T6 !"#$%&# / p%/>#$'>2( =*,B/5+( "while he attacked, the son of 77 Tyndareus struck him on the tip of the chin" (22.88-89); 'µµ()( >? +)>O3#/5+( H*6356'/Q5+ *+&,-*&. "his eyes were closed of with his face swollen (22.101); *z/ >? H*43%$6 µ")/*&# =( V354+/ "he skinned the whole forehead to the bone" (22.105); *z/ 3%/48%$6 *+0,/*&# H/'-25+( r+&%>6;-2( "Indomitable Polydeuces kept pummeling his entire face" (22.111); *&XZ6/ G*. 3-#,./ 1+0)(2&# -#J =*4µ*636/ åµu "[Polydeuces] struck him under the left temple and leaned in with his shoulder" (22.124); &#,F >] ,)0µ( -BT6 ... #)6J >? VZ%54$u *,5;&u >2&6D5+ *+0,/*&#, / µ4<$, 3%/2&+'236 *(+3%( "He struck the mouth with a left ... and with an ever fiercer torrent he destroyed the face until the cheeks were pulverized" (22.126-128). The face is both the locus of the eyes and an integral part of one's social identity in the type of closed society (i.e. 78 face to face) which Amycus prefers in the stichomythia. On the metonymy between face and social persona, cf. Lakoff and Johnson 2003: 37. This is also the last time that the audience reacts to the fighters. Cf. Laursen 1992: 85: "Strangely, they cease 79 applauding at this point, quite in contrast to the suitors in the Odyssey (and the spectators to the match Polydeuces- Amycus, as it is told by Apollonius Rhodius (2.97))." A similar swelling of the eyes appears in the ecphrasis of Idyll 1 where two men compete for the affections of a 80 woman, who "looks now at this man laughing, then turns her mind again to that one" (1.36-37). In contrast with the woman's shifting gaze, the men are called "long swollen-eyed with love" (G*?S$Q5+( >207 -%&+,>,BQ/56(, 1.37-38). The dominance of the woman's shifting gaze contrasts with the infirmity of the men's eyes (cf. Burton 1995: 108). ! of ! 49 214 This highly visual representation of the fight is accompanied by a set of spectators allied with each fighter who provide "reaction shots" for the fighters (Zanker 2004: 35; cf. Zanker 1987: 86-87). Zanker indicates how these reaction shots model a form a spectatorship for the reader, but surprisingly does not suggest what the reader might take away from these models. I suggest that they emphasize the identification the two opposing communities, one of Greeks and the other of Bebrycians. The presence of these groups reminds us that Amycus and Polydeuces represent conflicting group identities, i.e. Greek/ non-Greek, which are introduced in the stichomythia. Closer attention to the three reaction shots will confirm this. The spectators first appear at the gathering of the two groups to witness the fight (22.75-79): é w? èµ%-+(, -#J -B<&+/ Y&d/ µ%-O3#5+ -+D&+/. +E >] 0+c( 3%/1I6$06/ G*. 3-,6$7( *&#5#/'35+%( -B<&+% 8%3204/5+( H6J ê4W$%-6( -+µBQ/56(. ë( >? #e5Q( í$Q#( )d/ =-#&433#5+ *1/5#( á#I/O332( H*. /2.( G*6'$+<+( =/ >#ì i135Q$. Thus Amycus spoke, and taking a hollow conch, he roared. After the conch had been blown, the ever long-haired Bebrycians gathered swiftly beneath the shady planes. So similarly did Castor, eminent in battle, go and summon all of the heroes from the Magnesian ship. Amycus' use of a shell to summon the community is the "mark of primitive or uncultured peoples" (Sens 1997: 133). The verb used to express this action, however, suggests that Amycus, and by extension the Bebrycians are less than primitive humans: µ%-X30#, usually refers to sounds made by animals. The Bebrycians' long hair is ethnically ambiguous; it may look back 81 For example, of calves mooing at Id. 16.37. The verb is also used to refer to Agave, who roars like a lion at 26.20. 81 ! of ! 50 214 to Homeric depictions of the Achaeans or to Thracians (cf. Gow II 393). The context does not 82 make clear which of these potential references should be preferred, but the emphasis on some ethnic origin is further reinforced by the reference to the Argo in terms of its place of origin in Magnesia. This scene continues the dehumanizing of Amycus which begins when the Dioscuri first spot him in the locus amoenus, and extends this dehumanization to all of the Bebrycians. The second reaction shot occurs after Polydeuces lands a jab to Amycus' chin and the king redoubles his efforts (91-94): ê4W$%-6( >? =*#î56+/, +E >? Y54$Q06/ í$Q6( -$#56$./ r+&%>6;-6# 0#$3;/63-+/, >6,>,B56( µO *s( µ,/ =*,W$'3#( >#µ136,6 <s$u =/J 356,/_ p,5%_ =/#&'I-,+( H/O$. The Bebrycians cheered and the heroes on the other side encouraged mighty Polydeuces fearing lest somehow that Tityus-like man press down on him in a narrow space and overpower him. This passage identifies Amycus as a man (H/O$), but also compares him with Tityus, the offspring of Gaia, and one of the penitents whom Odysseus sees punished when he travels to the underworld (Od. 11.576-81). Tityus is most famous for his massive size, and the fears of the Argonauts reveal that they see Amycus as similarly monstrous in size and perhaps non-human. The allusion also foreshadows Amycus' punishment. The third reaction shot has already been discussed; it emphasizes Amycus' vision and also foreshadows his punishment. These three passages taken together insinuate the inhumanity of Amycus and the Bebrycians, while also Cf. Sens 1997: 133: "the participle is perhaps suggestive of Amycus' non-Greek status: [Theocritus], who seems to 82 have thought that long hair was characteristic of Thracians (cf. Gow on Id. 14.46...), may be making learned reference to the Bebrycians supposed Thracian origin;" and Gow II 257: "in Homer the Thracians are H-$B-+µ+, (Il. 4.533...), the Abantes (a Thracian tribe) b*,06/ -+µBQ/56( (Il. 2.542), which suggests at any rate that their hair was not neglected ... Aeschinas perhaps selects them rather as northern, and therefore vaguely hairy, barbarians than for any special knowledge of their tonsorial customs." ! of ! 51 214 emphasizing the importance of (ethnic) origin. These spectators remind us of the connection between vision and identification. Comparing Theocritus's version of this story with Apollonius' reveals the significance of vision and identity in the Idyll. Apollonius' story also involves cultural conflict and the triumph 83 of the Greek over the barbarian. It is still a story of improper hospitality that must be corrected in favor of "'Greek' norms" (Hunter 1993: 160). Apollonius' version, however, is more interested in the norms themselves than how they are articulated. Amycus proposes the boxing match as necessitated by the laws of the Bebrycians, and Polydeuces agrees to follow these laws: 84 063µ+D( I7$ G*6'Z+µ6/, a( HI+$6;6,( "we will yield to your laws, as you proclaim" (2.23). This concession to native law reduces the emphasis on the identification of the fighters to each other, because the roles of each fighter are already determined by the law. Although Greek norms of hospitality certainly are at stake in this episode, they are not emphasized as they are in Theocritus. The focus on law creates less need to rely on either visual or verbal identity, even though that law's foreignness increases the distinction between Greek and non-Greek. The law Amycus invokes specifies an action to be done, rather than potential identities to assume (Arg. 2.12-14): -4-&%0?, g&'*&#I-5+,, 51 *6$ L>µ6/#, eµµ,/ S+,-6/. +e5,/# 043µ,B/ =35,/ H8+$µ204/5# /4630#, H/>$c/ V0/6'Q/, U( -6/ ê4W$%Z, *6&133P, The relationship between Theocritus' version of the story and Apollonius' is a thorny issue, which I don't intend to 83 broach here. The primacy of Apollonius or Theocritus has been debated for decades with persuasive arguments on both sides. Theocritus: Köhnken 1965, Cameron 1995: 430-31, Köhnken 2001; Apollonius: Otis 1964: 398-404, Campbell 1974, Hunter 1996, Sens 1997. The consensus seems to side with Apollonius. Glei offers a reasonable compromise to those who argue that either Apollonius or Theocritus must have composed the entire sequence about Hylas and Amycus first. He suggests that perhaps Theocritus first wrote about Hylas while Apollonus first wrote about the boxing match (Glei 2001: 22-23). Murray's convincing new dating of the performance date of the Argonautica to 238 BCE raises new concerns about Apollonius' floruit and relation to Theocritus (Murray 2014). 043µ,B/ (Arg. 2.12), 04µ,35#( (2.17). The word is confirmed by the narrator: 063µ./ (2.5). 84 ! of ! 52 214 *$J/ <6'$633,/ =µF3,/ Y7( H/7 <6D$#( H6D$#,. Hear, sea-wanderers, things which it is fitting for you to know: it is the law that no one of foreign men, whoever approaches the Bebrycians, starts off and goes before he raises his hands against my hands. Amycus makes a similar proclamation in Idyll 22, but rather than declaring what is to be done, he simply states that: "it is not fitting (S+,-6/) that I learn this from you" (Id. 22.57). Amycus refuses to learn whether he should fear Polydeuces and his men, and by extension, whether Polydeuces and his men are the type of men that Amycus should fear. In the Argonautica, identifying categories are less relevant. Amycus refers to the strangers as V0/6D+,, "strangers," a word which certainly reflects an exclusionary group identity, but which lacks the institutional force of Z6D/+,. All that matters is that the foreign sailors do what the custom demands. The Argonautica story avoids any chance for the sly withholding and revelation of identity that appears in Theocritus' stichomythia. Instead, Amycus' practice of boxing strangers is immediately announced to the Argonauts (Arg. 2.5-18), making the identities of the combatants a non-factor. Vision actually appears several times in the Apollonian version of this story, but it does not evoke the negotiation of status that it does in Theocritus. Vision has a fairly quotidian purpose in the Apollonian boxing match. The fighters spot a place to fight (Arg. 2.35). They appear mighty in comparison to their peers (2.37). Polydeuces is bright-eyed (2.44). Amycus keeps his eyes on his opponent (2.49). A few times vision seems more significant, as when Polydeuces appears to shine as if a star (2.40-42), an image which is associated with epic heroism. An impressive simile describes how Amycus eyes Polydeuces as a wounded lion eyes 85 Diomedes (Il. 5.4-8), Hector (Il. 11.62-63) and Achilles (Il. 22.26-31) receive similar descriptions in the Iliad. 85 ! of ! 53 214 his human attacker (2.25-28). This image of Amycus' gaze certainly depicts his aversion to the strangers (cf. Fränkel 1952: 145), but a broader sociological message is only implicit. These lines might ascribe to Amycus a certain animality in contrast with his human opponent, but similes comparing a hero with a lion are common in Homer, so that is unlikely. In fact, during the 86 battle that follows the fight, the Argonauts themselves are compared with wolves surveying the herds with free rein to plunder what they want (Arg. 2.127). This may actually mark the Argonauts as the more savage, but in the absence of a developed visual motif, it lacks the emphasis of the instances of vision in Idyll 22. The most vivid reference to vision occurs when Polydeuces attacks Mimas, striking him so hard that the left eyelid tears away leaving the naked eye exposed (Arg. 2.108-109). Rather than a symbolic image of Bebrycian defeat, like the swollen eyes of Amycus in Idyll 22, this seems to be only a case of grotesque violence. The fight itself (Arg. 2.67-96) eschews visual description for metaphor; they battle like waves (Arg. 2.70-74), like carpenters (2.79-82), like bulls (2.88-89), like an oxen-slayer (2.91). These similes are presumably focalized by the audience of the fight, but rather than offering a glimpse through the eyes of the audience, they convey their impressions in more abstract terms. The absence of vision in Apollonius's version of the fight makes Theocritus's visual motif seem more striking. In the Polydeuces narrative of Idyll 22, vision is a means of evaluation and aggression for a character who challenges and loses to a Greek divinity. Unlike Amycus, Polydeuces proposes several possible social relationships with Amycus that conform to Greek conceptual categories. Polydeuces seems not to consider vision a significant factor in identifying Amycus, although the poem does show him using his vision to categorize Amycus when it focalizes an iconic depiction Menelaus (Il. 3.28), Agamemnon (11.129), Patroclus (16.487-90), Achilles (17.318-23). 86 ! of ! 54 214 of the Bebrycian king through his eyes. Ultimately, this narrative of Amycus challenging Polydeuces and losing is a narrative of Greek cultural superiority. The stark visual detail of Amycus' punishment under the fists of Polydeuces reveals what results when one resists Greek culture. Polydeuces' victory asserts the superiority of the Argonauts and of the Argonauts' Greek culture over that of the natives. Amycus' instigation of the fight also relieves the Greek of culpability for this act of cultural imperialism. His vision only seems to offer immediate recourse to violence. Unlike in Apollonius, Amycus does not declare the boxing match on behalf of any law or custom. Instead, his recourse to violence is presented as an act of impulse. Polydeuces, on the other hand, acts to uphold a Greek custom. His defeat of Amycus is a victory not only for Greek culture but for the organizing force of culture itself. This reading of the Amycus narrative allows us to notice significant parallels in the Lynceus narrative. Like the Amycus narrative, Lynceus' battle with Castor pays special attention to vision. The 30-line duel features a density of reference to vision that is surpassed only by the dialogue between Amycus and Polydeuces. As in the Amycus narrative, we can be certain that 87 the visual theme centers on Lynceus, not the divine twin whom he fights. Lynceus' association with vision is a traditional aspect of this character. He is the keenest eyed of the Argonauts, and this fact is rarely neglected when he is mentioned in ancient literature: H*. p#ïI45+% *6>#%I1hQ/ L>6/ É%/-6q( >$%.( =/ 356&4<6, yµ4/+%(. -6'/+% I7$ =*<0+/'Q/ *1/5Q/ I4/65?VZ;5#5+/ bµµ#. (Pind. N.10.62-64) The battle between Castor and Lynceus (22.181-211) includes 5 explicit references to vision (L>+,6/, 22.188; 87 1-$,W9( bµµ#3,, 22.194; 026D5+, 22.200; W&681$Q/, 22.204; 6D>6, 22.205), which is more than are mentioned in the much lengthier battle between Polydeuces and Amycus. The density of references to vision in the battle between Kastor and Lynceus is surpassed only by the 6 references to vision in the 21 lines of the stichomythia. If we ignore the potentially corrupt reference to eyes bµµ#5# in line 66 (see above) or count the sêma of Aphareus as an oblique reference to vision then the two passages make equal reference to vision. ! of ! 55 214 Watching keenly from Mt. Taugetus, Lynceus saw them sitting in the trunk of an oak. For his eye was sharpest of all those upon the earth. ...É%I-6q( >] -#J VZ%515+,( =-4-#35+ bµµ#3,/, 6) =56B/ I6 *4&6, -&4+(, H/4$# -6D/+/ w2,>'Q( -#J /4$06 -#57 <0+/.( #AI1h630#,. (AR 1.153-55) Lynceus also excelled with the sharpest eyes, if the rumor is really true that that man could see easily even underneath the earth. É%I-6;( I6 µ]/ VZ4# 52&+C / b336 W#&6D/. (AR 4.1466-67) Lynceus [trusting his ability] to cast his sharp eyes far. Theocritus' description of Lynceus does not deviate from this pattern, calling him "Lynceus, precise with his eyes" (H-$,W9( bµµ#3, É%/-6;(, Id. 22.194). In versions of this story from the Cypria and Pindar, Lynceus' vision helps him to discover the Dioscuri when they hide in the trunk of an oak tree after a cattle raid (Cypria frag. 16, Pindar N.10.60-63; cf. Henry 2005: 110-113). Similarly, in the Argonautica, Lynceus' only significant act is to catch the last faint glimpse of Heracles from afar (4.1477-82), confirming the hero's absence from the narrative and reminding the reader that the Argonauts have no recourse to his supernatural strength. In Idyll 22, Lynceus does not spot the Dioscuri; instead the story begins in the middle of the chase. Thus, Lynceus' vision seems to serve no real purpose in the narrative except to add dramatic effect to his death at Castor's hands (see below). In earlier versions of this story, i.e. Nemean 10 and the Cypria, Lynceus plays a smaller role and his brother Idas battles Castor. The augmentation of 88 The battle between Castor and Lynceus (22.181-211) is a loose adaptation of the same story told in Pindar's 88 Nemean 10.60-72. In both Theocritus and Pindar, Castor battles one of the sons of Aphareus, while the other watches (Id. 22.199-200; Pind. N. 10.61-2). In both poems, fighting with spears plays a role (Id. 22.183-90; Pind. N. 60, 69-70), although in Theocritus, this phase of combat is indecisive and the decisive blows are dealt with a sword. And both accounts include the use of Aphareus' tombstone as an improvised weapon (Id. 22.207-209; Pind. N. 10.66-68; cf. Sens 1997: 212). The many parallels between Theocritus and Pindar make Theocritus' innovations stand out, cf. Sens 1997: 213: "the reminiscence serves as an index of the fundamental difference between the accounts." We know that this story was also told in the Cypria (cf. frags. 16 and 17), but the sparsity of the remains from this text do not permit any significant conclusions about its relationship to Theocritus. ! of ! 56 214 Lynceus' role from ancillary antagonist to primary antagonist might be driven by his close affinity with vision and the parallel this allows with the Amycus narrative. As in the Amycus narrative, references to vision in Lynceus' battle build toward his defeat. The duel begins with the fighters attempting to glimpse some exposed skin to drive their weapons through a chink in the opponent's armor: SI<63, µ]/ *$s5,35# 5,5%3-Bµ6/+, *B/+/ 6R<+/ / H&&O&Q/, 6L *+; 5, <$+.( I%µ/Q0]/ L>+,6/ "First of all they toiled aiming with their swords at one another, whenever they saw some exposed skin" (22.187-188). This reference to vision is unremarkable in this context, but this is the first of several references to vision in a short span 89 of lines. The next reference is to Lynceus' distinguishing attribute (22.194). By highlighting the vision of Lynceus, the text recalls how important this trait is to Lynceus' identity. Castor receives no epithet in these lines, so Lynceus' attribute suggests that he may have some advantage, especially since the fight began with a focus on the fighters' vision. In fact, Lynceus' keen sight creates an expectation in the following two lines that provides dramatic tension about who is wounded (22.196-198): 5+C µ]/ @-$2/ =-B&+%36/ =*J 3-#,./ IB/% <6D$# 813I#/+/ VZq 84$+/5+( G*6Z#/#W7( *+>J i135Q$ 3-#,_M The end of the hand of him, who was carrying the sharp sword toward the left knee, withdrawing onto his left foot Castor severed. These lines narrate someone having their fingers cut off, but the subject of the verb is not revealed until the end of the second line. Before this revelation, the reader might suspect that There are several Homeric precedents for this scene which also draw attention to vision: "Achilles brandished [his 89 spear] in his right hand, planning evil for godlike Hector, looking for noble skin, where it might yield most" (ñ/ @$? "<,&&6q( / *1&&6/ >6Z,56$F 8$+/4Q/ -#-./ ó-5+$, >'u / 6)3+$BQ/ <$B# -#&B/, U*P 6LZ6,6 µ1&,35#, Il. 22.319-21); "From a high wall Teucer struck mighty Glaucus, son of Hippolochus, as he set upon them, with an arrow where he saw his arm uncovered" (p6C-$+( >] ò&#C-+/ -$#56$./ *#D>? ô**+&B<+,+ /)_ =*633;µ6/+/ W1&6 56'<6+( GT2&+D+, / ö w? L>6 I%µ/Q04/5# W$#<'+/#, Il. 12.387-389). Cf. Sens 1997: 203. ! of ! 57 214 Lynceus is the one who parries and cuts, using his keen eyesight to give him a tactical advantage. This would be in accord with Pindar's version of the myth, in which Castor is killed in the fight. The delayed identification of the fighter who cuts off his opponent's fingers increases the 90 suspense and the surprise of Castor's victory. When the battle turns against him, Lynceus flees 91 to take refuge by the tomb of his father where Idas observes the fight, an analogue of the spectators in the Amycus narrative: "swiftly he started to flee to his father's tomb, where stout Idas reclined and watched the battle" (#RT# >] 86;I6,/ / a$µO02 *+5J 3Xµ# *#5$.(, 5B0, -#$56$.( õ>#( / -6-&,µ4/+( 026D5+ µ1<2/, 22.198-200). Finally, a quasi-Homeric death frames Lynceus' surprising defeat in terms of his vision: ...n >? =( 35Bµ# -6D5+ /6/6%-d( / É%I-6;(, -7> >? @$# +E W&681$Q/ W#$q( S>$#µ6/ t*/+( "And Lynceus nodded and fell on his face, and then heavy sleep rushed down on his eyes" (22.204-205). Lynceus' death renews a conventional epic 92 description of death and gives prominence to the eyes. Like Amycus, Lynceus' defeat is made manifest through the symbolic neutralization of his vision. Furthermore, we can notice an overall structure which connects the two narratives. The Amycus narrative features a short speech Cf. Pind. N. 10.60: 5./ I7$ õ>#( Hµ8J W+%3'/ *Q( <+&Q06J( S5$Q36/ <#&-4#( &BI<#( H-µú "For Idas wounded 90 him with the edge of a bronze spear after being angered somehow over cattle" and N. 10.73-74: 5#<4Q( >? =*? H>6&86+C W'#/ *1&,/ <s$236/ n p%/>#$'>#(, / -#' /,/ +e*Q 560/#B5?, @30µ#5, >] 8$'33+/5# */+7( S-,<6/ "Swiftly [Polydeuces] returned to the might of his brother, and reached him not yet dead but shuddering with gasp of breath." Cf. Laursen 1992: 90. The action of these lines also recalls the similar feint technique used by Polydeuces against 91 Amycus in the first half of the poem (Sens 1997: 206-107). The line seems to be a combination of Odyssean and Iliadic precedents: +E t*/+( =*J W&681$+,3,/ S*,*56/ "sleep 92 fell on his eyes" (Od. 5.271; cf. 2.398, 13.79), 5./ >] -#5? V80#&µc/ =$6W6//9 /qZ =-1&%T6 "gloomy night covered his eyes" (Il. 5.659 = 13.580, 22.466, cf. 11.356). The metaphor of sleep as death was common in early Greek poetry (Sens 1997: 210). ! of ! 58 214 followed by a long battle, whereas Lynceus gives a long speech followed by a short battle. This 93 chiastic arrangement--i.e. short-long-long-short--is made more significant by the emphatic focus on vision in the short sections which begin and end it. The speech between Amycus and Polydeuces also introduces the important element of identity, or more specifically ethnic identity, into the poem; the few words that Amycus speaks reveal his opposition to Polydeuces' Greekness. Lynceus' lengthy monologue contrasts with Amycus' laconic speech. While there is irony in the fact that Lynceus identifies himself as "not a man of many words" (+A *+&;µ%0+(, 22.153) and then makes a long speech, Lynceus also identifies himself with a title that truly belongs to Amycus. The Bebrycian king shows his penchant for pithiness in the stichomythia, while Lynceus gives a monologue that lasts for 35 lines (22.145-180). Lynceus' claim to be "not a man of many words" is disproven both by the length of his speech and by his explicit indication that he has frequently given such speeches before. A likely consequence of this false claim is to 94 draw the reader's attention to the contrast between Lynceus' lengthy monologue and Amycus' curt replies, to which the label +A *+&;µ%0+( would better apply. In addition to Lynceus' greater comfort with verbal communication, his speech also indicates that he is more comfortable with Greek culture and institutions than Amycus. His modest, if disingenuous, preamble may itself be I follow the current scholarly consensus in attributing the entire spoken portion of this half of poem (22.145-180) 93 to Lynceus. Wilamowitz first proposed a lacuna and change of speaker (1906: 191-193), which was accepted by Gow (II 402). The speaker identifies his interlocutor at line 175, but the manuscripts are divided in reading this interlocutor as Lynceus or Castor. White disputes identifying the interlocutor as Lynceus (1976: 404-406; cf. Sens 1997: 194). Griffiths offers the classic argument against Wilamowitz's proposed lacuna and change of speaker (1976: 353-55). Hunter argues that several of the statements in this passage--calling Polydeuces "mighty" (22.173), the characterization of the dispute as a mega neikos (22.180), and even the reference to the comparative age of the brothers--seem more likely to indicate the perspective of Lynceus than Castor (Hunter 1996: 70-72). *+&&1-,(...51>? ?S6,*#, 22.152-53; L3-+/ 5+,1>6 *+&&1, 22.167; cf. Sens 1997: 178 94 ! of ! 59 214 an indicator of Lynceus' Greekness. Lynceus is not a barbarian who must be dispatched by the 95 divine twins. Rather, he is one of the Argonauts who has disembarked with the Dioscuri in the first half of the poem (22.27-33; cf. AR Arg. 1.151-55). Although many have sought to 96 compare Lynceus and Castor or Polydeuces and Castor on moral terms (e.g. Griffiths 1976), his long speech is better read as a means of contrasting him with Amycus. Amycus finds a foil not only in Polydeuces, whose Greek method of identifying strangers he opposes, but in Lynceus whose narrative places him in a similar position to Amycus, but shows him behaving differently in nearly every way. The short verbal exchange of lines 54-69 matches the battle of Castor and Lynceus both in its length and its focus on vision (see above). On the other hand, Amycus' preoccupation with vision places him in contrast with Lynceus, who, like Polydeuces, prioritizes verbal communication over visual identification. While Amycus first enters the narrative through the eyes of the Dioscuri and his appearance exemplifies his non- Greekness, Lynceus makes his first impression through his words, and those words exemplify his Greekness. Lynceus begins his speech with a claim about what is right. He argues: +A< +t5Q, 8'&+, @/>$6(, H$,35O633,/ S+,-6 / µ/2356;6,/ H&B<+%(, #v( /%µ8'+, x>2 Y5+Dµ+, "It is not fitting, dear men, in such a way for the best men to court brides who already have grooms at hand" (22.154-55). This statement echoes Amycus' reply to Polydeuces ("and it is not fitting [-b%- ... S+,-6/] that I learn this from you," Id. 22.57), but Lynceus' claim is more ethically defensible in Greek terms. Amycus rebukes Polydeuces for attempting to frame him within Cf. Sens 1996: 189: "Disclaimers such as Lynceus' are perhaps unsurprising at the beginning of a Greek speech." 95 In Apollonius, the catalogue of heroes lists Lynceus and Idas immediately following Castor and Polydeuces, 96 which may be a gesture toward the conflict which is narrated in Idyll 22 (cf. Thalmann 2011: 56). ! of ! 60 214 familiar Greek categories, whereas Lynceus makes use of multiple Greek social categories, including "best" (H$,35O633,/, 22.154), "good men" (HI#0+', 22.162; cf. Sens 1997: 185), and 97 "stand-outs among all heroes" (=/ *1/5633, >,1-$,5+, y$s633,, 22.163-64). Lynceus makes 98 these social distinctions, including an admission that the Dioscuri excel his own status, in order to persuade the twins that their action is in violation of Greek norms. Lynceus' speech seeks to maintain a certain social order. He calls the actions of the Dioscuri +A -#57 -B3µ+/ "out of order" (22.149). This phrase originates as a Homeric formula that describes actions which differ from established customs. For example, it describes the remarks Thersites makes against Agamemnon, his social better (Il. 2.214). Odysseus rebukes 99 the Phaeaecian Euryalus for speaking +A -#57 -B3µ+/ when he accuses Odysseus of being a merchant-sailor rather than a nobleman (Od. 8.179). By making use of this term Lynceus 100 reveals his commitment to social order and to the familiar Greek social order in particular. One way to affirm this social order is through oaths. Lynceus indicates that the daughters of Leucippus have been betrothed to himself and his brother by oath (=/ U$-u, 22.148). This fact appears only 16 lines after Amycus swears his "great oath" (µ4I#/ U$-+/, 22.132). The Amycus of Theocritus seems to oppose all verbal exchanges with strangers and has to be beaten into submission before swearing his oath, in contrast with even his Apollonian iteration, who The word "best" (H$,35+() serves an important role in the social world of the Iliad (cf. Nagy 1979: 26-41). The 97 Argonauts are called "best" H$,35X6( (22.99) in the Amycus narrative. The narrator uses the word x$Q6( to refer to the Argonauts twice (22.78, 22.92), as well as to refer to the heroes of 98 the Iliad (22.216). For the complexity of the depiction of Thersites, cf. Thalmann 1988. This phrase also appears in the decision of 99 the Atreidae to summon a council in the evening, rather than the customary time for such meetings, the morning (Od. 3.137-138, cf. West 1988: 168). I offer only one example of the long afterlife of the term. In a text roughly contemporary with Id. 22, Apollonius' 100 Argonautica, Medea describes her flight from her home as "out of order, with shameless desire" (+A -#57 -B3µ+/ H/#,>O5u )B525,, Arg. 4.360). Cf. Hunter 2015: 132. ! of ! 61 214 willingly declares the terms of the match. Lynceus' willingness to adhere to oaths marks him as a Greek and a different type of opponent from Amycus: he acknowledges a social order and attempts to maintain it through verbal confirmations and speech acts. This characterization of Lynceus makes him more like Polydeuces than like Amycus. Like Polydeuces, Lynceus prefers the verbal to the visual; his own associations with vision are only evoked in the physical altercation that follows. While Amycus refuses to accept any relationship with Polydeuces other than that of co- combatants, Lynceus draws attention to his kinship with the Dioscuri, saying: "you are both cousins to us on the father's side" (@µ8Q >?@µµ,/ H/6T,d =- *#5$B( =35+/, 22.170). Another 101 parallel with Amycus underlines this contrast. Both Amycus and Lynceus mis-label the Dioscuri as mortals. Like Amycus (22.55), Lynceus assumes that the Dioscuri are mortal (@/>$6(, 22.154). But even in his ignorance of this fact, Lynceus appears as a law-abiding, culturally-aware Greek. Amycus perceives Polydeuces as mortal and assumes that Polydeuces will be unable to withstand his superior might, while Lynceus' perception of Castor as mortal gives him the impression that Castor is bound by certain social conventions. Lynceus' erroneous recognition of the Dioscuri as kin also allows him to emphasize his own Greekness. Lynceus even offers an itinerary of familiar Peloponnesian locales when he admonishes Castor and Polydeuces to find brides elsewhere (22.156-160): *+&&O 5+, Å*1$52, *+&&9 >? E**O&#5+( ùû&,(, ~$-#>'2 5? 6eµ2&+( ~<#,c/ 56 *5+&'60$#, á633O/2 56 -#J è$I+( m*#31 56 Å,3%8J( H-5OM S/0# -B$#, 5+-4633,/ G*. 38654$+,3, 5$48+/5#, Cf. the reference to Polydeuces as Uµ#,µ+( (22.173, Sens 1997: 193). The reference to the Dioscuri's own 101 excellent bloodline (*#5$s,+/ #vµ#, 22.164) probably also recalls the supposed consanguinity of the Apharetidae and the Tyndaridae (Dover 1971: 247). ! of ! 62 214 µ%$'#, +e56 8%X( =*,>6%46( +e56 /B+,+. Broad Sparta, and broad horse-driving Elis, and Arcadia rich in sheep and the cities of Achaea, and Messene and Argos and the entire shore of Sisyphus; there by their parents are raised myriad maidens failing neither in form nor in mind. This passage not only offers the Dioscuri other options for their marital pursuits, but also provides a cursory survey of the Peloponnese (cf. Sens 1997: 181). Lynceus and Idas come from Messene (22.208) and thus are geographically linked with the Spartan sons of Tyndareus. Lynceus' catalogue-like excursus both evokes earlier Greek poetry (Hesiod's Catalogue of Women, the Homeric Catalogue of Ships), and highlights that he shares a homeland with his interlocutor. Nothing could be farther from Amycus' threatening boast, "but I do not set foot on your country" (22.59). This reading of Idyll 22 has compared Amycus and Lynceus as main focuses within each narrative of the poem. In the case of Lynceus this is not doubted, but Amycus is often handled 102 with less regard. He tends to become an ancillary part of the narrative of Polydeuces, blending into the setting, just as when the Dioscuri first spot him in the locus amoenus (see above). But Amycus is the key to understanding the relationship between vision and ethnicity in this poem. Vision is Amycus' primary means of understanding the world, and he is punished for failing to adapt his way of seeing to Greek culture and institutions. Within the Polydeuces narrative, this punishment seems to produce a black-and-white morality story: barbarian refuses peaceful Greek visitor and instigates violence; barbarian is punished. But the many parallels between Amycus and Lynceus complicate this conclusion. Lynceus, like Amycus, is closely associated with vision, but he doesn't use his vision to challenge the prominence of the Dioscuri. Lynceus receives Cf. Sens 1996: 199-200: "Lynceus ... is (in spite of what we might expect in a narrative claiming to honor Castor) 102 the focus of the episode." ! of ! 63 214 worse treatment and is much better mannered. We might dismiss this contrast as simply the indifference of the gods, but we need not adopt such indifference ourselves. 103 The contrast between the parochial, ethnocentric message of the first episode and the less discernible moral orientation of the second episode must be read alongside the ethnic difference of Amycus and Lynceus. Many cultures make it more acceptable to attack outsiders than insiders. The ethical problems of the second half of the poem directly reflect the difficulty of justifying the killing of a Greek, even if the divinity of the Dioscuri makes them less culpable for such an act. According to one scholar, the poem's main theme is "the use of violence" (Laursen 1992: 95), but I suggest that a series of contrasts help make sense of that violence. To compare the actions and motivations of the characters is not enough. Instead, we must compare verbal and visual identity, Greek and non-Greek ethnicity, Lynceus and Amycus. The relationship between ethnicity and vision in Idyll 22 should not be surprising in a text of the early Ptolemaic period. This was a period in which Greeks from all over the Mediterranean migrated to Alexandria and confronted other Greeks they had never seen before as well as a variety of other ethnic groups. The documentary evidence from this period shows that ethnicity quickly became a fluid concept in bureaucratic situations, but a more basic idea of ethnicity as 104 personal identity likely persisted at least early on. Even while recent historical studies have 105 shown that aspects of the Ptolemaic administration offered some non-Greeks increasingly equitable treatment and opportunity for social mobility (e.g. Fischer-Bovet 2014), we cannot "If the god so chooses, Amycus will be spared and Lynceus disembowelled" (Hunter 1996: 69). 103 The standard study is Goudriaan 1988. 104 Elsewhere in Theocritus, Praxinoa makes what one scholar has identified a "racist" remark against Egyptians (Id. 105 15.46-50, cf. McCoskey 2002), and also reveals the importance of her own identification as a "Syracusan ... Corinthian by descent" (90-91). There is no reason to doubt that such ways of thinking were a reality for some Greeks in Egypt. ! of ! 64 214 ignore the long tradition of Greek chauvinism. In other words, ethnicity is "a bundle of 106 shifting interactions rather than a nuclear component of social organization" (Østergård 1992: 36). Vision is just one kind of social interaction but it is one which is particularly prone to categorical distinctions (Brighenti 2007: 333-34). I suggest that Idyll 22 reflects on this aspect of life in early Ptolemaic Egypt and raises important questions about it. The vision this poem questions is not simply that of the Greeks gazing upon others. Amycus' vision is the focal point of the poem's visual theme. Amycus articulates his vision as a native of Bebrycia responding to newly arrived Greeks. Such a perspective may be pregnant for Greeks in Egypt who would recognize their status as the newly arrived ethnic other (cf. Stephens 2003: 244). That this poem tells a story also told by the Argonautica is well known, but how that story fits into the whole of the poem is less often explicated. The "Hymn to the Dioscuri," like the Argonautica consists of "intertwined stories of Greeks and others" (cf. Thalmann 2011: 192). As avatars of Greek culture, the Dioscuri strike an ambivalent note. Polydeuces' victory over the antagonistic Amycus is justified, since Amycus picks the fight. In this story we see Greek culture valorized, and vision is treated as implicit in this cultural superiority, even when it can be used by others to treat a Greek as an outsider ("men I have not seen before"). The second narrative complicates this message. Lynceus is the foil of Amycus; he does everything right. He is associated with vision, but he does not use it in so threatening a manner. Vision in the second half of the poem does not show itself to be as imbricated with cultural categories as it is in the first half, but the lack of distinctive cultural categories in this part of the poem arises precisely "The 'interpretatio Graeca' of non-Greek religion by Herodotus and others, the near-unanimous rejection of the 106 learning of foreign languages by Greeks, the disdain for barbarians clear in the writings of Aristotle, these and so many features of Greek cultural values earlier were not overturned by the migration of Greeks eastwards" (Samuel 1989: 83). ! of ! 65 214 because there is no distinction of cultures. Both Lynceus and Castor are Greeks. This classification is easier to demonstrate through speech than vision. When deadly sleep falls upon Lynceus' eyes, we can begin to question the simple message of the first narrative. If the force of the divine twins blurs the distinction between Greeks and others, then perhaps this distinction must be questioned too. In the words of another scholar, this poem is "political in the broadest sense, serving neither to support nor to subvert the status quo, but to open up a space in which social and political values could be imaginatively recreated, examined, and critiqued" (Stephens 2003: 12). I would add that in addition to these values, this poem examines the different ways that these values are articulated with words and with gazes. 3. Seeing Through One Eye: Vision and Alterity in Idyll 11 While the characters of Idyll 22 present several pairs and contrasts--the Dioscuri and the Apharetidae, Polydeuces and Castor, Amycus and Lynceus-- the lone speaker of Idyll 11 stands in isolation. Polyphemus sits alone and although he sings to Galatea, she never appears. Several aspects of the poem even suggest that he sings to himself. Despite this difference, Idyll 11, like 107 Idyll 22, places much emphasis on identification. A great example of this is furnished by the proem, which provides three different identifications for Polyphemus in quick succession (11.7-9): +t5Q I+C/ w1,35# >,zI? n i;-&QT n *#$? gµD/, a$<#D+( r+&;8#µ+(, U-? x$#5+ 5z( ò#&#56'#(, @$5, I6/6,13>Q/ *6$J 5. 35Bµ# 5d( -$+518Q( 56. He explicitly addresses the end of his song to himself and consoles himself for his failed courtship (11.72-79). 107 The framing narrative's reference to Polyphemus' song as a "remedy for love" (*+55./ S$Q5# ... 81$µ#-+/, 11.1) also suggests that the song is more concerned with alleviating the pain of the love than actually resulting in its consummation. Cf. Hunter 1999: 220-21. ! of ! 66 214 Thus the Cyclops, one of us, faired well, ancient Polyphemus, when he was loving Galatea, with a fresh beard around his mouth and temples. The first line begins by calling Polyphemus "the Cyclops." This word identifies what he is rather than who he is. "Cyclops" is a type or group to which Polyphemus belongs, as he makes clear 108 later in his song: "I know how to pipe like none of the Cyclopes can" 3%$'3>6/ >? a( +e5,( =*'35#µ#, j>6 i%-&s*Q/ (11.38). As a means of identifying the character, calling him 109 "Cyclops" evokes his alterity, since the Cyclopes were frequently used to contemplate the boundaries between human and inhuman in antiquity. The next phrase in the line,"one of us," 110 offers a contrast to this difference by claiming the character's similarity to the speaker. He is "my countryman" (Gow II 210) or "our [Cyclops]" (Hunter 1999: 226, brackets and emphasis in original). The following line uses temporal distinctions to identify Polyphemus as a literary character. The "archaic" Polyphemus is the Polyphemus who was composed in the Archaic age, a literary artifact (Hunter 1999: 227). The rest of the line, "when he was loving Galatea," offers a different literary instantiation of the character, i.e. the besotted Polyphemus of Philoxenus, which contrasts with the Polyphemus of Homer. These two versions of Polyphemus comprise one of the most significant oppositions in the poem. Polyphemus the lover will continually evoke Polyphemus the monster by means of unconscious allusion (see below). In the final lines quoted above, the image of young Polyphemus' new beard provides another identification, which is expressed in a similar fashion to the description of Aeschinas in Idyll 14. Like "one of us" and "when he was loving Galatea," the freshly grown beard shows the reader that this is not the same pace Gow II 219, on K i;-&QT (11.72): "he addresses himself ... using his own name." 108 In antiquity, more than one type of Cyclops was recognized, cf. Kirk 1970: 162-63. 109 Cf. Kirk 1970: 162-171; Konstan 1990; Pucci 1998: 113-130. 110 ! of ! 67 214 Polyphemus that Homer depicts. This Polyphemus is younger and perhaps even less monstrous, since the newly grown beard is almost always a positive trait elsewhere in Theocritus. 111 Altogether, each line offers a different criterium of identification. The first suggests broad typologies (Cyclops vs. human; ours vs. theirs) and contrasts a label of difference with a label of likeness. The second line evokes contrasting literary models. And the third uses visual 112 description to present him as a young erastês (cf. Hunter 1999: 227). The series of contrasts in these lines create a variety of oppositions for anyone who attempts to identify the character they describe. Is Polyphemus a young lover or is he a Homeric monster? Is he inhuman or is he one of us? The question is not definitively answered, and the reader is left unable to resolve the ambiguity of Polyphemus' identity. This problem persists throughout the poem and is complicated by Polyphemus' seeming earnestness and the poem's frequent irony. It should be no surprise then that there are two opposing ways of reading Polyphemus. Some see him as sympathetic, others as laughably pathetic. I do not propose to promote one of these ways of 113 reading the character over the other. The contrast between Polyphemus' sympathetic traits and his ironic traits plays a major role in the poem's ambiguous mediation of his identity. At times he Of Adonis: #A5.( >? a( 0#25.( =*? H$I%$4#( -#51-6,5#, / -&,3µc, *$z5+/ L+%&+/ H*. -$+518Q/ -#5#W1&&Q/ 111 "That's him lying on a silver couch, how amazing, growing his first down from his temples" (15.84-85) and S5, +E *6$J <6'&6# *%$$1 "around his lips is still tawny" (15.130); of Daphnis: l( >? U µ]/ #A5c/ / *%$$B( "the first of these was tawny-chinned" (6.2-3; cf. Hunter 1999: 249); of Delphis: 6R>+/ ^4&8,/ nµ+C 56 -#J üA>1µ,**+/ )B/5#(M 5+D( >? l( Z#/0+54$# µ]/ Y&,<$;3+,+ I6/6,1( "I saw Delphis and Eudamippos walking together; beards more golden than helichryse they had" (2.77-78). On the other hand, the spatial description of the breadth of the beard may suggest that it is unattractive. The goatherd of Idyll 3 worries that he is unattractive because his beard sticks out too much (*$+I4/6,+(, 3.9). Cf. Spofford 1969: 29, who finds a similar, but less specific series of contrasts in these lines. 112 This distinction was noticed already by Schmiel (1975: 32), who prefers the humorous reading. The two ways of 113 reading the poem share much, but differ in the emphasis placed on the parodical elements of the story. Holtsmark (1966), for example, emphasizes the reflective element of the poem over its humor, whereas Hutchinson sees the juxtaposition of Polyphemus' "emotional seriousness" with the poem's lack of seriousness as the main conceit of the poem (1988: 178-83). As with many of Theocritus' characters, a large part of an audience's reaction would likely be contingent on the way the character was performed during recitation. One could play Polyphemus with a hopeless deadpan or a quiet dignity. ! of ! 68 214 seems disarmingly human, while at others it is impossible not to recognize his difference. As we've seen before, vision plays a major role in this process. The role of vision in identifying the Cyclops is a traditional aspect of this story. Before they reach the Cyclops' cave, Odysseus and his men gaze in wonder at Goat Island (Od. 9.153), and then the outside (9.182) and inside of Polyphemus' cave (9.218). When his men urge him to leave before the cave's inhabitant arrives, he refuses because he wants to see the cave's inhabitant (b8$? #A5B/ 56 L>+,µ,, 9.229). As a consequences of his refusal to leave, Odysseus and his men must watch as Polyphemus devours their comrades (3<45&,# S$I? n$BQ/56(, 9.295). The description of Polyphemus' appearance exemplifies the story's focus on Polyphemus as inhuman and an object to be seen. Odysseus describes him as "a monstrous marvel" (0#Cµ?... *6&s$,+/), who "did not look like (=Ö-6,) a bread-eating man, but like a wooded peak of lofty mountains, which stands out (8#'/65#,, lit. "appears") alone, apart from the rest" (9.190-91). This visual comparison of Polyphemus with a mountain peak emphasizes the social qualities (his isolation and his wildness) which Odysseus attributes to him (Heubeck 1989: 25; cf. Kirk 1970: 166; de Jong 2001: 236). As pictured through Odysseus' eyes, Polyphemus is the "image of humanity 114 negated" (Heubeck 1989: 25). 115 In Idyll 11, however, Odysseus is absent, although traces of him remain in Polyphemus' speech. As Hunter notes, the frequent allusions to Odysseus' narrative of the Polyphemus episode Odysseus' judgement of Cyclopean society is commonly noted by critics, and can best be exemplified by 114 Heubeck's characterization of the Cyclopes as the "lowest cultural level, devoid of all that gives human life its distinctive quality....a negation of human values ... the embodiment of the non-human" (Heubeck 1989: 21). Pucci (1998: 119-120) claims that this description is challenged by description of Polyphemus as a "monstrous man" (H/9$ ... *6&s$,+(, 9.187) or a "savage man" (@I$,+/ @/>$#, 9.494), but we must recall that H/O$ does not connote humanity in the way that @/0$Q*+( does, and likely implies only maleness (cf. Konstan 1990: 212). Austin (1983) offers a suggestive, and at times speculative, reading of the Cyclopeia that frequently attends to the 115 role of vision in articulating the narrative. Coincidentally, much of what he says about the psychological motivations of Odysseus in the Odyssey might be also applied to Polyphemus in Idyll 11. ! of ! 69 214 cause the Polyphemus of Idyll 11 to become "trapped in the language ... of Odysseus" (Hunter 1999: 219). In earlier versions, not only Homer, but also Euripides and Philoxenus, Odysseus is present and plays a major role in the poem's characterization of Polyphemus as inhuman. In Euripides' Cyclops, Odysseus enters early in the play and asks Silenus, "who holds this land? A type of animal?" (Eur. Cyc. 117). The rest of the play then illustrates the answer to this question by measuring both the Cyclops and the chorus of satyrs against the rule of human culture (Konstan 1990: 209-22). In the dithyramb of Philoxenus, Odysseus is once again trapped in 116 Polyphemus' cave, but rather than trick him with magical wine, he offers to help him seduce Galatea (Hordern 1999: 450-51). The fragments of this play make reconstruction difficult, but it is possible that Odysseus plays a larger role than Galatea (Hordern 1999: 448), who may have been absent as in Theocritus' version (Hordern 1999: 451). This version of the story seems to have been presented as a thinly veiled allegory in which Dionysus I of Syracuse was portrayed as Polyphemus, the author, as Odysseus (PMG 816). Depending on the severity of the satire, Philoxenus also may have emphasized a contrast between Cyclopean inhumanity and human cleverness, a familiar trait of the story in both the Odyssey and Euripides (Fantuzzi 1996: 17). In Theocritus, without the mediating perspective of Odysseus, we see Polyphemus through his own eye, so to speak. Although Polyphemus cannot escape the language of Odysseus, he must identify himself for himself. Polyphemus' identification of himself is not entirely self-serving. He does it in service to his attempt to woo the nymph Galatea. Nevertheless, Polyphemus' paean to his pastoral life gives "The question of the monstrous, and of beast and mankind, will take its place in a complex of oppositions, some 116 of which will be valorized, while others, like those implicit in the kyklops' own scheme, are devalued" (Konstan 1990: 212). Konstan notes that this "ideological structure ... is something like a matrix for the action" (Konstan 1990: 222). For more on this, see below. ! of ! 70 214 as much attention to ethnographic or anthropological detail as Odysseus usually does. The core of Polyphemus' song (11.34-59) constitutes his most sustained attempt to convince Galatea to come live with him (Schmiel 1993: 230). The passages immediately before and after this section of the poem (11.30-33 and 50-53) are both concerned with Polyphemus' ugly appearance, which he considers a detriment to his attempted wooing (see below). The lines in between attempt to prove that Polyphemus would be a worthy mate despite his appearance. To briefly summarize these lines, Polyphemus: tends herds of cattle (11.34), drinks milk (11.35), eats cheese (11.36), plays the pipe (11.38), raises deer and bears (11.40-41), lives in a cave (11.44), eats grapes or drinks wine (11.46), and drinks water (11.47-48). Unsurprisingly, food and drink occupy a 117 major aspect of this catalogue, both because Polyphemus is traditionally depicted as gluttonous, and because this feature is a common ethnographic distinction. Living in a cave and herding 118 cattle mark him as subhuman (cf. Shaw 1982). Similarly, drinking milk and water signifies a lack of civilized culture, which is usually opposed to the civilized drinking of wine (cf. Shaw 1982: 29-30). Polyphemus, like his Homeric counterpart, has access to the "sweet-fruited vine" (@µ*6&+( g I&%-;-#$*+(, 11.46). Nevertheless, he appears to prefer to drink milk and water, which he explicitly praises (5. -$15,35+/ ... I1&# *'/Q, 11.35) and describes in more detail (11.47-48): His reference to the "sweet-fruited vine" (@µ*6&+( g I&%-;-#$*+() is ambiguous, especially compared with the 117 more explicit description of a similar fact in Homer: @µ*6&+,, #` 56 84$+%3,/ / +R/+/ =$,3518%&+/ "[there grow] vines which bear wine from excellent grapes" (Od. 9.110-11; cf. Heubeck 1989: 21). Euripides' Cyclops does not know wine. Perhaps for the sake of symmetry, Hunter suggests that our Cyclops also does not: "the young Cyclops probably simply eats the 'sweet grapes,' and urges Galateia to do likewise" (Hunter 1999: 236). "Diet plays a conspicuously central role as a defining element [of ancient ethnography]. In ancient literary 118 texts ... food consumption often demarcates an elaborate series of definitions of culture, extending along a fine continuum from the quasi-civilized (the Spanish in Strabo) to the utterly savage (the Irish)" (Shaw 1982: 29). Cf. Konstan 1990, who identifies four major types of behavior which contribute to anthropological dimension of the Cyclops story he analyzes: eating, drinking, social exchange (i.e. commerce and xenia) and social conventions (friendship, laws). ! of ! 71 214 T%<$./ t>Q$, 5B µ+, g *+&%>4/>$6+( L5/# &6%-z( =- <,B/+( *+5./ HµW$B3,+/ *$+\25,. Cold water, which many-treed Etna delivers me from its white snow, ambrosial drink! Polyphemus unconsciously contrasts the water he drinks with the wine he drinks in Homer. The wine which leads to the downfall of the Homeric Cyclops is called 06D+/ *+5B/ "divine drink" (Od. 9.205) and HµW$+3'2( -#J /4-5#$+( ... H*+$$sZ "derived from ambrosia and nectar" (Od. 9.359). Polyphemus' phrase *+5./ HµW$B3,+/ seems to combine the two Homeric descriptions of the wine (Hunter 1999: 237). This pure water provides an amusing antithesis to the pure, unmixed wine that leads to the downfall of the Homeric monster. Within 119 Polyphemus' love song this passage is meant to convince Galatea of his worthiness, but for the reader, it provides a stark inventory of his alterity. In this regard, this passage mirrors the famous ethnographic inventory which opens Odysseus' Cyclops story in the Odyssey (Od. 9.106-139). This inventory includes direct 120 description of the Cyclopes (106-115, 125-129) and the indirect description afforded by his evaluation of Goat Island (116-124, 130-139). In these lines, the Cyclopes are characterized as 121 lawless (106), collectors of wild grains, i.e. non-agriculturalist (108-9), living in caves (113-14), and non-seafaring (125). Goat Island is described as having many wild goats (118-19), land fit for viniculture (132-33), fertile farmland (134-35), a safe harbor (136). The terms here are by necessity different from those listed in the previous paragraph, since Polyphemus offers a catalog A similar conceit appears in the Homeric text, when Polyphemus is said to drink @-$25+/ I1&# "unmixed 119 milk" (9.297). The word @-$25+/ usually applies only to wine (Page 1955a: 7-8). For a broader approach to ethnography in the poem, cf. Dougherty 2001. 120 Austin 1975: 144-45; Kirk 1970: 164-65; cf. Byre 1994: 364-67, who argues that Goat Island characterizes 121 Odysseus as homesick Greek rather than Polyphemus as inhuman Cyclops. ! of ! 72 214 of positive attributes aimed to entice his beloved, while Odysseus' catalog is a distinctly negative evaluation against the measure of mankind. But the descriptive method and rhetorical inclination of the two catalogs is similar. While the description of Goat Island lists the potential benefits 122 of inhabitation, Polyphemus' love song attempts to convince Galatea of the potential benefits of cohabitation. The unpersuasive nature of Polyphemus' catalog is almost universally acknowledged (Schmiel 1975: 33; Hutchinson 1988: 180-81), but that the passage reformulates Odysseus' famous ethnographic excursus has not been noted to my knowledge. The laurels 123 around his cave are the only specific echo from the Homeric Cyclops episode (11.45; cf. Od. 9. 183), but Polyphemus' survey of his lifestyle and habitat allows him to assume the role of 124 Odysseus. Unfortunately, none of the things he offers seem as enticing as Odysseus' description of Goat Island, but they serve a similar function in the story: to identify the Cyclops as other. 125 When Polyphemus expresses his own thoughts and perceptions, this similarly alienates him from the audience. Polyphemus begins his song by describing how he perceives Galatea, and in doing so he reveals the limitations of his own perspective (11.19-21): † &6%-7 ò#&156,#, 5' 5./ 8'&6+/5? H*+W1&&P, &6%-+54$# *#-5z( *+5,>6D/, g*#&Q54$# H$/B(, µB3<Q I#%$+54$#, 8,#$Q54$# bµ8#-+( oµz(; Cf. Byre 1994, for the rhetorical dimension of Odysseus' description. 122 Horstmann comes close when he says: "Als der Kyklop in der Schilderung seines attraktiven Lebensstandards 123 fortfährt, bliztst für einen kurzen Augenblick der homerische Hintergrund auf" (1976: 85), although he mentions only that the detail of Polyphemus' husbandry of deer and bears is fitting to the Homeric character. Other details recall the cave of Calypso (Hunter 1999: 236), whose own unrequited love serves as an apt, if 124 ironizing, analogue. Calypso offers Odysseus everything he could want, including immortality, and he still shuns her. In comaprison, Polyphemus' offer seems pitiful. Cf. Gutzwiller 1991: 111-12: "In Polyphemus' description of his idyllic existence ... we are reminded at every 125 turn that these are pleasures fit only for a monster ... despite all this effort, we are not attracted to his cave and we known Galatea will not be either." ! of ! 73 214 Oh white Galatea, why do you reject the one loving you? You're whiter than quark to look at, softer than a lamb, more skittish than a calf, and glossier than an unripe grape. In these lines, Polyphemus describes the effect of Galatea on his senses. His claim about her softness may be more based on imagination than memory, but there is no reason to doubt that he describes her appearance based on a former perception (cf. his description of love at first sight, 11.25-29). The first and last items in Polyphemus' list describe Galatea's appearance, and his 126 vision is emphasized by the epexigetical infinitive *+5,>6D/. Rhetorically, these lines are 127 addressed to the nymph and are meant to flatter her. However, as with the description of his lifestyle, these lines do more to characterize him than to persuade her. Polyphemus' compliments draw a picture of Galatea through his eyes. All of the descriptions frame her in terms familiar to a herdsman but probably not very flattering from her perspective. By framing Galatea in this way, he reveals that he is constrained not only by the "language of Odysseus" (see above), but also by his own perspective. Like the narrator of Left Hand of Darkness (cf. the epigraph to 128 this chapter), Polyphemus cannot see Galatea except through categories essential to his nature. Unlike that character, he is unaware of this phenomenon. In Odysseus' absence, Polyphemus serves Odysseus' usual role as interpreter. Polyphemus acts as interpreter both of himself and of Galatea; he also attempts to see himself through her eyes (11.30-33): 11.25-29: à$1302/ µ]/ SIQI6 56+C(, -B$#, g/'-# *$z5+/ / l/06( ... *#;3#30#, >? =3,>s/ 5% -#J t356$+/ +A>? S5, 126 *#, /C/ / =- 5O/Q >;/#µ#, "I loved you, maiden, when you first came ... and when I saw you, I was unable to stop from that time and after and still even now." Gow notes that the adjective 8,#$B( generally refers to light or a shimmering appearance (II 212). Dover 127 considers the adjective to refer to the nymph's complexion (1971: 176). The alternative reading 38$,I#/Q54$# "plumper" offers both visual and tactile senses. Both Rosenmeyer (1969: 254) and Gutzwiller (1991: 113) consider these lines to somehow bestialize 128 Polyphemus. I think this assertion goes too far. Polyphemus focuses on qualities familiar to human herdsmen: the color of cheese, the texture of wool, the behavior of a calf. I prefer to follow the characterization of these lines as "country metaphors" (Spofford 1969: 29) or "rustic rhetoric" (Dover 1971: 175). ! of ! 74 214 I,/s3-Q, <#$'633# -B$#, 5'/+( +t/6-# 86;I6,(M +t/6-1 µ+, &#3'# µ]/ V8$q( =*J *#/5J µ65s*u =Z o5.( 545#5#, *+5J 0s56$+/ K( µ'# µ#-$1, 6v( >? V80#&µ.( t*635,, *&#56D# >] wJ( =*J <6'&6,. I know, winsome maiden, why you flee. It's because a shaggy brow stretches over my whole forehead from one ear to the other ear, one thick line. There's one eye under it, and a wide nose upon my lip. This passage is presented as the answer to the question of why Galatea flees which Polyphemus raises at the start of his song (cf. 11.19). This attempt to see from Galatea's perspective is more realistic than his description of her. Unlike his praise of Galatea's beauty, Polyphemus' description of his own face is not colored by his life-experience. He can see through her eyes more clearly than he can see through his own. He acknowledges his own ugliness and abnormality. These lines stand in opposition to lines 19-21 as two contrasting ways of seeing. 129 When Polyphemus sees Galatea, he sees an ideal beauty that is understood in terms that are drawn from his daily life. When he adopts her perspective to see himself, he sheds the herdsmen's terms and recognizes his ugliness. It is not surprising that when he tries to compensate for this ugliness by cataloging his lifestyle (11.34-49), he reverts to his own self-referential terms. As Walsh notes (1990: 16): Here, in the pastoral world that he observes with his own eye, he finds another reality, larger than what Galatea sees in his face--a thousand cows and an inexhaustible supply of cheese: he retreats from multiplying subjectivities by grasping at something that seems fixed, impersonal, and objective. Walsh reads the catalog as a way for Polyphemus to insulate himself from Galatea's perspective, but since Polyphemus frequently addresses Galatea in these lines (11.30, 39-40, 42-43, 50), we Cf. Walsh 1990: 16: "He has glimpsed himself through her eyes and sees his own single, hairy brow stretched 129 straight from ear to ear. That is, he induces himself to accept the privacy and subjectivity of his own dreams when he discovers another person's subjectivity." ! of ! 75 214 should probably set aside this intriguing psychological reading and acknowledge that Polyphemus addresses his catalog to Galatea. Polyphemus frequently addresses Galatea in the beginning of the poem, but does not address himself until later in the poem (K i;-&QT, 11.72). At this point in the poem, he is still trying to convince Galatea to adopt his perspective. If she learns to appreciate the world through his eye, she may not be so bothered by his appearance. 130 Polyphemus surveys a world of excesses--thousands of cattle (W+57 <'&,#, 11.34), never ending cheese (11.36-37), and a constant supply of the best milk and pure water (which produces the best milk (11.35, 47-8, see above). One accustomed to this world of excess might not see the 131 excess hair on his brow as so damning. 132 Thus far, we have examined the way that Polyphemus sees and thinks, but there are many ways in which this poem also draws attention to the reader's own perspective. Many have noted that lines 31-33 refer to Polyphemus' ugliness, but by explicitly referring to the single eye, these lines also evoke his otherness. As Page notes (1955a: 16): the one-eyed giant has always been the most popular; and it is easy to see why--not only because the mechanics of blinding him are so much simpler, but also because he is so hideous and appalling, among the most alarming and memorable creatures of universal folk-lore. The single-eye is a sign not only of ugliness, but also of inhumanity. In the context of the Cyclops story, the physiological difference of the single eye helps articulate Polyphemus' The goatherd of Idyll 3 is similarly anxious that he appears ugly to Amaryllis because of his goat-like 130 characteristics: 3,µB( "snub-nosed," *$+I4/6,+( "bushy beard" (3.8-9, cf. Hunter 1999: 113). But from a goatherd's perspective, a goat might not appear so unattractive. Again, he resembles Odysseus, whose narrative in Od. 9 "resonates with the size reversals proper to a child's 131 fantasy... Everything in the story is monstrously magnified or monstrously diminished" (Austin 1983: 7). Polyphemus abandons his pastoral persuasion just after he seems to accept Galatea's evaluation of his 132 appearance. His decision to allow her to burn off his brow (11.50-53) coincides with the end of his attempts to make her enter his world and the beginning of attempts to enter hers (11.54-62). ! of ! 76 214 otherness. Polyphemus' eye marks his difference from Galatea--and from the reader--because 133 it recalls his monstrousness. The next time he mentions his lone eye he is encouraging Galatea to depilate his bushy brow with fire and alluding to the blinding which punishes his Homeric forebear (11.50-53): 134 #) >4 5+, #A5.( =Id >+-4Q &#3,s56$+( lµ6/, =/5J >$%.( Z;&# µ+, -#J G*. 3*+>_ H-1µ#5+/ *C$. -#,Bµ6/+( >? G*. 56C( -#J 57/ T%<7/ H/6<+'µ#/ -#J 5./ k/? V80#&µB/, 5c µ+, I&%-6$s56$+/ +A>4/. If I myself seem too hairy to you, I have oak timber and unwearying fire under the embers. I would endure to be burned by you both with respect to my soul and my one eye, than which nothing is sweeter to me. The many ways in which this passage evokes the blinding of Polyphemus in Odyssey 9 are noted by Hunter (1999: 237). The important difference here is that the burning of the eye is marked 135 as secondary to the burning of the soul, a common metaphor for human love (Gow II 217). The blinding of Polyphemus is the moment at which Odysseus most clearly articulates the rupture between humanity and the Cyclops. Any potential for equality between the Cyclops and Odysseus ends with this act. The allusion gives the lover's plea a subtext which evokes the 136 violent punishment of an inhuman monster. This quintessentially dehumanizing act contrasts This use of physiology to demonstrate other-ness can also be seen in Polyphemus' wish for gills (11.54-55). In 133 order to live with Galatea in her realm (cf. 11.62: "so that I might then learn how sweet it is to live with you in the deep"), Polyphemus would require a biologically different body. The wish for gills demonstrates that physical differences articulate a fundamental boundary between beings (cf. Holtsmark 1966: 256). These two passages (11.30-33 and 50-53) are connected both by their framing of Polyphemus' anthropological 134 catalog (see above) and by verbal echoes. Polyphemus recalls his bushy brow (&#3,s56$+(, 11.50; cf. &#3'# µ]/ V8$q(, 11.31) as well as his lone eye (5./ k/? V80#&µB/, 11.53; cf. 6v( >? V80#&µ.(, 11.33). Cf. Schmiel 1993: 230. "Homer draws particular attention to the burning of the Cyclops' brow (Od. 9.389) ... The presence of 'undying 135 fire' and (olive) logs in the cave was of course to allow Odysseus to produce the very tragedy to which the Cyclops alludes in 53 ... [G*. 3*+>_]: cf. G*. 3*+>+C in the same sedes at Od. 9.375 ... -#,Bµ6/+(: cf. Od. 9.390 I&O/2( -#,+µ4/2( 'as the eyeball burned.'" Pucci notes that the nautical metaphors in the Homeric blinding "[reduce Polyphemus] to an object, a ships 136 timber [sic], something that Odysseus can build and dismantle at will" (1998: 120). ! of ! 77 214 with the humanizing prospect of a lover whose soul burns. In the absence of Odysseus, the reader is encouraged to mediate this contrast. While the absence of Odysseus deputizes Polyphemus to interpret himself, Polyphemus' entrapment in the language of Odysseus invites the reader to assume a similar interpreting position. This interpretation is complicated, however, by an additional textual echo in lines 50-53. In addition to recalling Polyphemus' blinding and the description of his face from lines 31-33, lines 50-53 also echo Polyphemus' rustic perspective on Galatea's beauty. The two comparative adjectives that bookend this passage (&#3,s56$+(, I&%-6$s56$+/) recall the similar adjectives that punctuate Polyphemus' perspective in lines 19-21. The comparative adjectives 137 remind us of the difference between Polyphemus' and Galatea's perspectives. Different people might have different standards for hairiness, and might value their eye(s) with different values of sweetness. The different ways of seeing identified so far all converge in these lines. There is a 138 layering of textual reference in lines 50-53 that includes: the image of Polyphemus' face (31-33), the blinding from the Odyssey, and the description of Galatea (19-21). The reader must now attempt to reconcile three different modes of viewing: the subjective vision (of Polyphemus the besotted rustic), the more realistic vision (of Polyphemus' face from Galatea's perspective), and the blindness (of Polyphemus the Homeric monster). This passage serves as a climax for the visual motif of the poem, but it does not promote one of these perspectives over the others. By Polyphemus only uses comparative adjectives in these two places. When he describes being able to pipe better 137 than the other Cyclopes, he uses the awkward (and ominous) construction: "I know how to pipe like none of the Cyclopes can" 3%$'3>6/ >? a( +e5,( =*'35#µ#, j>6 i%-&s*Q/ (11.38). Both of the adjectives are coincidentally associated with vision. The shagginess of Polyphemus' brow recalls 138 Polyphemus' ventriloquizing of Galatea's visual perception in lines 31-32. I&%-6$s56$+/ refers to Polyphemus' eye, which is the source of his perception. Furthermore, I&%-6$s56$+/, a rare word in early epic, only occurs at Od. 9.28, when Odysseus mentions his desire to see his home again (Hunter 1999: 237). A reader who notices this careful allusion may also reflect on the way that vision and belonging are related in the poem. ! of ! 78 214 opening itself up to multiple perspectives, the text challenges the reader to remember that such judgements are always subjective. Polyphemus' vision becomes as puzzling for the reader as Galatea's behavior is for him. A key aspect of the poem which the reader must decide upon is 139 the monstrousness of the Cyclops. Frequent allusions to the Homeric Polyphemus would seem to color our protagonist with the same inhumanity, but in fact this poem answers the question of Polyphemus' inhumanity less definitively than its literary antecedents. In light of this alternation of perspectives in Polyphemus' song, we might now return to the the proem and its ambiguous identification of Polyphemus' (11.7-9): +t5Q I+C/ w1,35# >,zI? n i;-&QT n *#$? gµD/, a$<#D+( r+&;8#µ+(, U-? x$#5+ 5z( ò#&#56'#(, @$5, I6/6,13>Q/ *6$J 5. 35Bµ# 5d( -$+518Q( 56. Thus the Cyclops, one of us, faired well, ancient Polyphemus, when he was loving Galatea, with a fresh beard around his mouth and temples. The final line of the description offers the reader an image of Polyphemus' face not unlike that of lines 31-33. Here we see Polyphemus' beard rather than his eyebrow, but there is a similar attention to the way it stretches across his face (*6$J 5. 35Bµ# 5d( -$+518Q( 56; cf. 11.31-32: V8$q( =*J *#/5J µ65s*u / =Z o5.( ... *+5J 0s56$+/). The narrator's description of Polyphemus' 140 face seems abbreviated compared with Polyphemus' own description in lines 31-33 because the narrator glosses over all of his physical anomalies, which, as Polyphemus' description makes clear, far outnumber the normal traits of his face (cf. Hutchinson 1988: 180). The only detail we receive is a standard attribute of the beautiful young herdsman (see above). The reader may still Spofford reads lines 50-53 as similarly reflexive for the reader: "Theocritus has created false expectation in such 139 a way as to compel comparison of the rustic and cultivated. Polyphemus' ardor is recognized as the emotional state that makes talk about fire and wood relevant to the subject of love. But the expectation of figurative language proves too sophisticated. The surprising meaning of Polyphemus' words is a joke on us" (1969: 34). Payne (2007: 76) notes the connection between the two passages as well. 140 ! of ! 79 214 have Polyphemus' single eye in mind--the word "Cyclops" in line 7 perhaps suggests it --but 141 this Cyclops is different. Whereas earlier versions treat him as a foil for all things human, here he is "one of us" (11.7). The authorial voice in the narrative frame never reveals Polyphemus' imperfections. In fact, we can even recognize ourselves in Polyphemus. The epithet "one of us" makes Polyphemus more familiar than other versions. Some have noted that this phrase 142 indicates the shared geographical origin of Polyphemus, Theocritus, and Nicias in Sicily (e.g. Gow II 210). This may be true but does not fully account for the broad significance of calling Polyphemus "one of us" rather than some more specific indication of shared locality (Hunter 1999: 219). The phrase also seems to connect Polyphemus with both Theocritus and Nicias in terms of life experience, since Polyphemus is meant to exemplify the amorous problem from which Nicias suffers. Nicias, the intended audience of the poem, is encouraged to compare his situation with that of Polyphemus. The adverb +t5Q in line 7 marks Polyphemus as illustrating the lovelorn situation in which the narrator implicates Nicias in the first six lines (cf. Dover 1971: 174). 143 This Cyclops is not as distanced and inhuman as in other versions of the story. He is the protagonist of a story that illustrates the message: "[The remedy of music] is something gentle and sweet among men (=*? H/0$s*+,(), but it is not easy to find" (11.3-4). This line echoes the But only because of the tradition, not because of any semantic content of the word, "which might mean 'round- 141 eyed' or 'round-faced,' but not 'one-eyed'" (Page 1955a: 14). Cf. Brooke 1971: 74-75, who sees the phrase as connecting only Theocritus and Polyphemus; and Gutzwiller 142 1991: 114, who argues that the authorial presence of Theocritus in the framing narrative "makes explicit the analogy between the poet (himself or Nicias and therefore all poets) and the Cyclops." Polyphemus even makes a claim to knowledge that likens him to Nicias. Before he describes his face, 143 Polyphemus exclaims: "I know (I,/s3-Q) why you flee" (11.30). The same word in the same sedes describes the knowledge of Nicias in the framing narrative: I,/s3-6,/ >? +Rµ#' 5% -#&c( )#5$./ =B/5# / -#J 5#D( =//4# >9 *68,&1µ6/+/ SZ+<# á+'3#,( "I know that you understand this well, since you are a doctor and especially beloved of the nine Muses" (11.5-6). The comparison of Polyphemus' inquiry with the medical and musical knowledge of Nicias further emphasizes Polyphemus as an analogue for him and by extension for the reader. ! of ! 80 214 description of the magical drug moly, which Hermes gives to Odysseus. This drug helps 144 prevent Odysseus from being turned into an animal, so the allusion in Theocritus may prepare the reader for the poem's thematic play with the boundary between humanity and inhumanity. Once Polyphemus enters the poem, the reader may question how he can illustrate a lesson about men (@/0$Q*+,). Polyphemus is never called human in the earlier tradition. As noted above, 145 he only shows the limits of humanity by being its opposite. But in Idyll 11, he behaves in ways 146 that are recognizably human, even when they are inhuman or abject. Theocritus' Polyphemus, like Homer's Odysseus, might be called human in contrast with the Homeric Polyphemus, but 147 because we know that these two Polyphemi are really the same, the paradox of Polyphemus' humanity remains unresolved. Theocritus' Polyphemus straddles the line between one of us and the other. The effect that I am describing is not one that is unfamiliar to readers of Theocritus. This poem, like most of Theocritus' poems, makes use of both earlier literary material and realistic situations set in a fictionalized world. In this regard, the highly referential poetry of Theocritus can be recognized as utilizing two forms of mimesis: literary mimesis and mimesis of life <#&6*./ >4 5? V$;336,/ / H/>$13, I6 0/25+D3, "it is hard for mortal men to unearth" (Od. 10.305-6; cf. Hunter 144 1999: 226). He is called a "man" (H/O$, Od. 9.187, 494; Eur. Cyc. 591, 605), but this word pertains only to gender and is 145 better translated as "male" (cf. Konstan 1990: 212). The passage in Odyssey 9 which seems to most humanize Polyphemus is the tender address he directs to his ram 146 (9.446-61). Cf. Glenn 1971: 171: "In any event, the address to the ram in the Odyssey stands out in strong contrast to the folktales by its skillful and memorable touch of pathos, its truly human glimpse of the giant who utters it." Heubeck, however, reads this passage thus: "the monster, who passes his savage life cut off from society and is impervious to any sense of obligations towards others, is capable of feelings and friendship, but they are directed only towards an animal; indeed he has more in common with his flock than with his fellow giants" (Heubeck 1989: 37). The analogy between the Homeric Odysseus and Theocritus' Polyphemus was made explicit in a talk by Anatole 147 Mori at the 2015 meeting of CAMWS, in which she argued that Polyphemus narrates his sorrows like Odysseus, and we first find him lamenting a lost love on a shore (cf. Od. 5.149-158). ! of ! 81 214 (Hunter 1996: 116-119). The former occurs when a poem imitates or re-stages a moment from 148 an earlier literary text, while the latter occurs when the text of a poem attempts to represent the real experience of individuals in the world. These two do not represent mutually exclusive 149 categories, since a literary text that is imitated may itself represent the experience of individuals in the world. The Polyphemus of Idyll 11 is a careful combination of traits from the Homeric monster and traits from a human lover. The Homeric aspects of Theocritus' Polyphemus 150 represent what Hunter calls literary mimesis, while the aspects of Polyphemus as lover represent him as mimesis of life. The conflict between these two aspects of Polyphemus forces the 151 reader to examine both Polyphemus' perspective and the perspective that we adopt as readers. The Homeric monster is delineated against certain cultural categories (Greek and human), but the Homeric Cyclops becomes the context against which we must contrast the Theocritean Polyphemus, as we must also contrast this Polyphemus with ourselves. The literary mimesis of the poem ironizes the more sympathetic aspects of the mimesis of life, and vice versa. Hunter coins his two types of mimesis in a discussion of Idyll 15. There he seeks to strike a middle ground in the 148 ongoing debate about whether to read the Syracusan housewives as sympathetic (Burton 1995; Skinner 2001) or unsympathetic characters (Legrand 1898; Griffiths 1981; Goldhill 1994). The similar scholarly divide experienced by Idyll 11 (see above) makes this concept useful for our purposes. Of course, the ambiguity with which this poem depicts a non-human monster does question the vehemence with which some have tried to categorically prove the alterity of the Syracusan housewives. Hunter's model offers an alternative to Gutzwiller's dichotomy of mimesis and analogy. For Gutzwiller, mimesis 149 is anything in the text that fits the story and seems appropriate to the characters. Analogy is whatever encourages a reader to look past the story and connect certain elements of the story with situations, people and concepts which exist outside of it (Gutzwiller 1991: 18-19). Hunter's two forms of mimesis both contain aspects of Gutzwiller's analogical mode. Cf. Hunter 1999: 227: "n *#$? gµD/ ... a$<#D+( suggests both the distance in time of the Cyclops and the modern 150 relevance of his example." Most of what we know about the behavior of Greek lovers comes from literature, so this aspect of Polyphemus is 151 technically literary mimesis as well, but the generalized picture of the Greek lover than can be gleaned from the many literary representations is as close as we can come to a real historical understanding of this practice. In fact, careful attention to literary representations is perhaps the best way to obtain "historical specificities" about erôs in the ancient world (Zeitlin in Calame 1999: xiii-xv; cf. Gibbs in Bettini 1999: xi-xii). ! of ! 82 214 What this Polyphemus importantly retains from his Homeric incarnation is his lack of insight. As Hopkinson concludes (1988:149): Sight and insight are of central importance: the Cyclops' single eye presents to him only a partial view of the world. He sees himself and his own attractions in a much more favorable light than we do; he sees his song as a tour-de-force of persuasion, whereas we see a humorous incongruity in the rustic nature of his similes and enticements; where he sees flirtatious encouragement we see mockery (77-78); in what he sees as a harmless wish we foresee his doom. 152 This lack of insight parallels the way Polyphemus is depicted in Homer, but alongside these 153 metaphorical uses of sight--nothing that Hopkinson says Polyphemus "sees" is actually an object of vision--we can also consider the relation between vision and cognition in the two key moments that I have identified above. In his description of Galatea, Polyphemus' vision is influenced by his rustic lifestyle. He sees Galatea as "whiter than quark" and "glossier than an unripe grape" (11.19-21). Here, his vision is not as realistic as in his description of his face, but as a character he seems more human, even if that human is a naive herdsman. What human does not frame something he likes in terms familiar to himself? In his description of his face, on the other hand, a reader is given a visual image which emphasizes Polyphemus' alterity (11.31-33). In these lines, Polyphemus abandons his rustic comparisons and represents his appearance in realistic terms. In sum, we find that Polyphemus sees more clearly when he appears most inhuman, and he seems more human when his vision is most clouded by pastoral preconceptions. The earlier passage (11.19-21) emphasizes the contingency of Polyphemus' perception on his Holtsmark (1966: 258) offers different conclusions but a similar approach in his discussion of Polyphemus' 152 "development from initial blindness to final clarity about himself." Cf. Squire 2009: 322. cf. Austin 1975: 149: "the giant's grotesque single eye ... becomes more than a convenience for the exigencies 153 of the plot. Everything we are shown about the Kyklopes, everything they do and say, proves them to be monocular. Polyphemus' single eye sums in one poetic image the whole of the Kyklopean character." The Polyphemus narrative of the Odyssey is like a "documentary on life without reason" (Austin 1975: 144). ! of ! 83 214 cultural knowledge. In the latter passage (11.31-33, and also 50-53), the reader must confront their own cultural knowledge, since this is what informs the picture of Polyphemus. In the absence of Odysseus' perspective, the reader must assume the role of evaluating Polyphemus, and we find a definite difference in our evaluation compared to his own. This fits with the poem's themes of knowledge and self-awareness. Many readers have focused on the way that Polyphemus constructs his image of Galatea. For example, Hunter notes that "those who live alone are compelled to create their own 'other' to answer a universal need" (Hunter 1999: 222). My reading has aimed to show that such an act of construction also occurs in the mind of the reader. All of Polyphemus' human-like qualities, which encourage the reader to see him as like ourselves, are not negated by Polyphemus' allusions to his monstrous Homeric analogue, but co-exist with them and force the reader to re-examine both Polyphemus' perspective and his own perspective. The poem sets Polyphemus before our eyes first as an innocent figure, but this image is quickly challenged by the subtextual emergence of the Homeric monster who is used to establish important categorical distinctions between human and inhuman, civilized and uncivilized. Each of these parallels permits the reader to practice self-reflection when we see Polyphemus' failure to do so. Even when Polyphemus inadvertently alludes to his own monstrousness we can still find a way to place ourselves in his shoes. 154 Polyphemus models for us the type of self-reflection which the literary structure and contrast of visual perspectives within the text demands. Idyll 11 is spoken by Polyphemus and reveals only his own viewpoint and his imagination of how Galatea sees him. Polyphemus' Goldhill reaches similar conclusions while focusing on the poem's framing elements: "the bucolic masque always 154 divides us from the picture it invites us to see ourselves in: a never-never or always-already land of sameness and difference in which the Cyclops has to be n *#$? gµD/, one who is para us, who parodies, is a parody, who displays the (paradoxical) parergonal logic of the frame" (1991: 260-61). ! of ! 84 214 description from this viewpoint both invites the reader to adopt it and reveals the limitations of his perspective. But he also models a form of self-reflection, albeit ultimately parodical. After finishing his love-song-turned-lament, he asks himself questions which parallel those that he asks of Galatea: "Oh Cyclops, Cyclops, where do you fly out of your senses ... why do you pursue one fleeing?" (11.72-75; cf. 11.19, 11.30). These lines initiate a self-reflection that ends in self-delusion, as Polyphemus convinces himself that he is desirable because girls laugh at him (11.76-79). Despite the jest in this final representation of the Cyclops, a reader may still be encouraged to mirror this self-reflection, lest we become a similar mixture of earnest and foolish, naive and deluded. In the course of the poem, Polyphemus begins by inquiring into Galatea and ends inquiring into himself. Careful attention by readers to the contrasting perspectives of the poem--perspective in both the visual sense and a more general sense--encourages us both to re- examine our evaluation of Polyphemus and to evaluate ourselves. 4. Conclusion This chapter has examined how vision is informed by categories of thought in two poems of Theocritus with similar poetic situations. Polyphemus and Amycus are both outsiders. They straddle the boundary between human and inhuman, Greek and barbarian. Both of these poems set these monstrous others within the bucolic pleasance of a locus amoenus. And in both cases 155 this bucolic landscape is treated as their home. In Idyll 22, Greek eyes evaluate Amycus and hold him up to standards that are foreign to him. In Idyll 11, Polyphemus unknowingly evokes standards by which his vision and appearance can be evaluated. Idyll 22 offers the narrative of Polyphemus is actually on the sea-shore (11.17-18), but much of his song evokes the pastoral landscape that he 155 habitually inhabits. The locus amoenus of Id. 22 is also close to the shore where the Dioscuri and the Argonauts have just disembarked (22.32). ! of ! 85 214 Lynceus and Castor as a means of contrasting Greek vision with Amycus' barbarian vision. In Idyll 11, these two modes of vision cohere in the perspective of the other who tries to see himself and to understand someone else. The similarity between these Idylls should not surprise because Amycus, like Theocritus' Polyphemus, seems to be modeled on the Homeric Polyphemus (cf. Sens 1997: 111-12). Both are identified by their brute strength. Both are sons of Poseidon. Both are overcome by a Greek hero for violating the customs of xenia. And most importantly, both are envisioned in terms of 156 Greek categories that place them outside the realm of civilization. They both struggle against the label of agrios (Id. 22.58; Od. 9.215). Like the Homeric Polyphemus, Amycus attempts to stand outside the Greek custom of xenia and is punished for it with damaged eyes. This morality tale is never questioned within his own story. The narrative of the Lynceus story, in which a Greek is killed while trying to ensure the return of his betrothed, makes Polydeuces' mercy towards Amycus seem even more excessive. In Amycus' case, his vision challenges his categorization but ultimately fails. Polyphemus' failure seems more a case of being unable to understand what and how he sees. Polyphemus' blinding underlies much of what he says in Idyll 11, while Amycus' eyes are damaged as a result of his own privileging of vision over verbal discourse. It seems fitting to ask how Amycus and Theocritus' Polyphemus match up to each other. Theocritus' Polyphemus might seem more sympathetic, but this is largely because he also seems more Greek. He even wishes for "some xenos" to approach in a ship (11.61), something which it is hard to imagine Amycus doing, even after his encounter with the Dioscuri. Polyphemus is paradoxically less human and more Greek than Amycus. Amycus accepts xenia when he is For the importance of xenia to the Cyclops story, cf. Reece 1993: 125-130. 156 ! of ! 86 214 defeated, and in this acceptance seems to sanction the colonization of Bebrycia by the Greek Polydeuces. The reluctant xenos is still a human, while the Cyclops' humanity remains uncertain. Polyphemus remains isolated and alone. If he appears more human at first, this is because all pastoral figures inhabit the periphery of the Greek world, and at the periphery categories become difficult to distinguish. Amycus, on the other hand, is a direct antagonist of Greek culture. His perspective is all or nothing, winner or loser. He loses and becomes subject to civilization. These two figures, Amycus and Theocritus' Polyphemus, share one thing unequivocally: they demonstrate that vision uses cultural categories to classify those whom we see. The fact that the categories we use can change or that someone can embody conflicting categories does not vitiate this fact. Theocritus, unlike Amycus, admits the complexity and necessity of social vision. Comparing these two poems also warns against the assumption that pastoral poems are unaware of social forces or less inclined to explore them. There is sometimes an assumption that Theocritus' pastoral poems are less capable of or less invested in social analysis. Idyll 11 offers 157 a self-aware approach to social vision. It invites the reader to assume the role of viewer and to question her own role as viewer. Idyll 11 does this by elegantly reframing an inelegant character. The effect is similar to that of Idyll 22, but the analogies and comparisons all extend past the boundaries of the text, while Idyll 22 makes its comparisons between two narratives within the text. Idyll 22 asks the reader to recognize familiar social categories (agrios, xenos, etc) and to cf. Payne 2007: 14-15: "[the bucolic poems] have the form of literary drama, but their characters are manifestly 157 not representations of contemporary life ... what is sourced from myth and actuality has undergone a thorough fictionalization ... and the bucolic characters belong to no world that we can identify outside the poems in which they appear." Berger draws attention to an element of Theocritean pastoral that "progressively eliminates the range of concerns that give art significance beyond itself--the social and political concerns of urban life in the Alexandrian world" (1984: 35), although he goes on to show how Theocritus ultimately rejects this element (ibid. 37-38). Miles confirms that "we must search for an essential unity [of the pastoral poems] in something other than the poet's escapism" (1977: 160). ! of ! 87 214 notice the contrast between two opposing narratives. Idyll 22 has its own pastoral elements (cf. Thomas 1996), but the poem's description of Amycus is most dehumanizing when he is seen in the poem's most pastoral setting, the locus amoenus (22.39-50, see above). Idyll 11 on the 158 other hand acknowledges Polyphemus' difference, shows his physiological and anthropological alterity, but humanizes him nonetheless. The poem's parodical representation makes light of his failure as lover, but it does not make light of who he is. For all of his failures, Polyphemus is not easily dismissed. The goatherd of Idyll 3 offers a fitting comparison. This is a character whom 159 one can view with total derision. His raving, repeated threats of violence, and uneasy twitching eye make him seem more of a threat to his beloved than the young Polyphemus, even if allusions constantly remind us of who he will become. Readers of Idyll 11 can laugh at Polyphemus, but this is not a naive pastoral laughter. It is a knowing laughter, because when they laugh at Polyphemus they also laugh at themselves. Both of these texts explore the complexity of the relationship between vision and identification with particular attention to ethnic and anthropological details. Idyll 22 does this through attention to the various terms and categories which can be used to frame an individual in the eyes of another. These terms and categories constitute a matrix which makes an individual recognizable within social and cultural frameworks. Idyll 11 looks past these categories to consider a more direct relationship between vision and subjectivity. Here too, however, we find that the basic binaries, such as human/inhuman, us/them, civilized/savage, help frame an individual's perspective. In the next chapter, I will explore the individual actor more closely. The The end of this description depicts Amycus with a lion-skin fastened around his neck (22.51-52). This subtle 158 evocation of the culture hero Heracles may undercut the colonialist perspective of Polydeuces in this passage. Many compare these two stories and characters, cf. Gutzwiller 1991: 106. 159 ! of ! 88 214 recognition of a relation between vision and identification which we have explored here is expressed largely in static terms, i.e. the identifications remain fixed and vision offers a glimpse of how they are configured. But identification is also dynamic and mutable. We will see how Theocritean characters attempt to change their identifications before the eyes of another. ! of ! 89 214 CHAPTER 2 - Situating Vision: The Awareness of Social Vision and Its Consequences "I was unable, while living, to picture my self to myself in the actions of my life; to see myself as the others saw me; to set before me my body and see it live, like another's body" (Pirandello 1992: 12-13) The previous chapter set out to demonstrate that vision in the poetry of Theocritus is an act with a social significance, specifically that vision could frame others within a matrix of social categories. This chapter will explore a further implication of the social significance of vision: that vision can be used to determine the interpersonal roles and relationships between characters. The epigraph to this chapter comes from the novel One, No One, One Hundred Thousand by Luigi Pirandello, coincidentally a countryman of Theocritus (born near Girgenti in 1867). In the beginning of the novel, the narrator, Moscarda sits before a mirror and tries to see himself the way others do. He cannot do so, but in this process he comes to recognize that although to his mind he is always the same person, he must appear uniquely in the eyes of each different person he knows. The scene in front of the mirror ends with an explication of Pirandello's title. Moscarda tries to discover a person within himself who exists outside his perception (Pirandello 1992: 13-14): I still believed this outsider was only one person: only one for everybody, as I thought I was only one for myself. But soon my horrible drama became more complicated: with the discovery of the hundred thousand Moscardas that I was, not only for the others, but also for myself, all with this one name of Moscarda... all inside this poor body of mine that was also one, one and, alas, no one. Moscarda feels terror at the discovery of his fragmented self. In essence, this terror results from the recognition that so long as he participates in society he is always framed within the vision of others. He realizes that an individual cannot exist in a social vacuum. In the rest of the book, Moscarda attempts to wrest his identity from the perception of others by acting in ways entirely inconsistent with the expectations of those around him and with ! of ! 90 214 his own preceding behavior. At one point, he evicts a tenant who is behind on his rent during a rainstorm. The cruelty of this act is inconsistent with Moscarda's formerly easygoing attitude, but he then reveals that he has signed over a much nicer property to the man entirely free of charge. This generosity is also a surprise: Moscarda hardly has the capital for such magnanimous largesse, since he lives off the modest dividends of his father's business success. In this episode, he places great value on the presence of a viewing audience for his actions. His wildly 160 inconsistent actions show a concern only to be seen differently by those around him, but in doing so he convinces them to see him as insane. The novel ends with his institutionalization. Pirandello's narrative documents perhaps the most extreme and unlikely way to respond to the knowledge that the perception of others frames one's identity. Nowhere in Theocritus does a character react so strongly to the knowledge that his appearance before the eyes of others delineates his place in society. But several characters do reveal an awareness of the social power of vision. Polyphemus seems to acknowledge this in Idyll 11 when he admits his ugliness before the eyes of Galatea, and he responds with lengthy praise of his rustic life to compensate for this ugliness (see Chapter 1). Beyond the extremes of Moscarda's rebellious mania and Polyphemus' pathetic apologetics, many other responses could follow from an awareness of the social power of vision. Once someone understands that vision affects relations with others, he can actively try to occupy certain social roles by making claims about his appearance, his vision, or the vision of others. "I see there, standing along the walls, for shelter from the rain the people witnessing the eviction and other people 160 who, under their umbrellas, stop out of curiosity noticing the tumult and the heap of wretched belongings forcibly cleared out and exposed to the rain there in front of the door ... an old chamber-pot, cleared out of the hovel with the other objects and exposed there to everyone's sight... I was--I can't describe it--all ashudder, waiting for the miracle: my transfiguration, from one moment to the next, in the eyes of all" (Pirandello 1992: 92-93, my italics). ! of ! 91 214 To identify the social-constructedness of vision, one usually relies on a model of vision which identifies it as subordinate to the social categories which affect it. For example, when analyzing Thyonichus' description of Aeschinas' appearance in the last chapter, I focused on the identifying categories which informed that description. If we consider this description to be a 161 direct representation of Thyonichus' actual perception, then the categories can be seen as controlling his perception. This way of "reading" vision treats it as dependent on discursive factors which act unconsciously upon the viewer. But it seems unlikely that Thyonichus' words represent a simple catalog of his perceptions unmediated by the speaker's intention. His description of Aeschinas clearly situates Aeschinas in a social hierarchy, and Thyonichus' own place in that social hierarchy is determined by his ability to place others, i.e. Aeschinas and the Pythagorist, below him. To better understand how vision can be implicated in the mediation of social standing, I turn now to Donna Haraway's concept of "situated knowledges." Haraway discusses the social-constructedness of vision in her landmark essay "Situated Knowledges: The Science Question in Feminism and the Privilege of Partial Perspective" (1991). In brief, this essay starts from an acknowledgment of socially constructed vision, but then asks how one might attempt to achieve objectivity within a seemingly subjective system. Because Haraway is explicitly concerned with de-privileging the normative white male perspective that is often treated as an objective ideal, she calls for an objectivity that is self-aware and admits its own partiality (Haraway 1991: 188-190). In effect, this perspective would admit that it is not the only perspective and leave space for other perspectives. In order to assert this partiality, one must attempt to determine which aspects of himself as viewing agent inform his perspective and use Id. 14.3-6: "That explains why you're so slight, and all that mustache, and crusty curls. Just such a Pythagorist 161 showed up the other day, wan and unshod. Said he was Athenian." ! of ! 92 214 these to qualify the product of his vision as "situated knowledge" (1991: 197-199). This means 162 of reflecting on vision allows one to turn from the inherently passive conception of vision as social construction to an active vision which is aware of social construction and takes responsibility for it. Haraway's discussion of perception and perspective is foregrounded on an analysis of modern science, but her conclusions can be extended more generally. The admission that there is no truly objective perspective means that all acts of vision are as situated within social categories as the knowledge they produce. The theory of situated knowledges admits that perception and information are always contingent upon a power structure in which different perspectives are assigned different values (Haraway 1991: 194-196). In Haraway's formulation, situated knowledges result from perception, but one could also work backwards from situated knowledge to determine the relation between the situation and vision. While Haraway calls for a system of annotating information that will equalize the status of knowledge from different perspectives, there is nothing to stop someone from exploiting the power structure in which vision occurs for their own benefit. "Situated knowledges" are the result of an ideal, egalitarian approach to vision and knowledge, but in describing this ideal, Haraway admits that we often fail to obtain it. Her call for a turn from passive perception to active self-reflection also makes room for partial perspectives that actively attempt to occupy certain roles or obtain certain statuses. These viewing positions might refuse to situate what they see in an egalitarian way and instead strive to situate themselves, to obtain power or social standing based on their perspective. This chapter Situated knowledges are not part of a relativistic system. Both relativistic and totalizing, singular vision assume 162 that vision occurs in the absence of existing social hierarchies. "Both deny the stakes in location, embodiment, and partial perspective; both make it impossible to see well" (Haraway 1991: 191). ! of ! 93 214 will examine several cases in which characters in Theocritus attempt to use vision to situate themselves or others within a social order. In doing so, they will either attempt to gain social power by adopting a familiar perspective or attempt to assign a new value to an existing viewing perspective. What this approach to vision ultimately evokes is performance or performativity. The idea of performativity does not supersede the categorical system that was explored in the last chapter, but it does ask how this categorical system functions in social interactions. 163 Performance evokes the referentiality of social action; social acts refer to certain social standings and use existing social constructs as a means to obtain that standing. One study of this concept 164 relates performativity to a person's belonging or membership in a group. "The performativity of belonging 'cites' the norms that constitute or make the present 'community' or 'group'" (Bell 1999: 3). The idea of inclusion or belonging is particularly apt for the poems discussed in this chapter in which a lone character attempts to alleviate his loneliness by identifying himself with a group. This also reminds us that the words exchanged by Polydeuces and Amycus in the last 165 chapter are not simply declarative statements but also performative acts that ritually reproduce the cultures each man represents. Performance, in this sense, does not necessarily imply an 166 cf. Butler 1988: 526: "The body is not passively scripted with cultural codes, as if it were a lifeless recipient of 163 wholly pre-given cultural relations. But neither do embodied selves pre-exist the cultural conventions which essentially signify bodies." cf. Butler 1990: 173 (emphasis in original): "Such acts, gestures, enactments, generally construed, are 164 performative in the sense that the essence or identity that they otherwise purport to express are fabrications manufactured and sustained through corporeal signs and other discursive means." Butler would later clarify in both this text and in Bodies That Matter (1993) that the sense of "fabrication" here is not meant to imply falsity or inauthenticity. cf. Polyphemus in Idyll 11.79: =/ 5â Iâ -àIs 5,( 8#'/+µ#, lµ6/ "I appear to be somebody on land." 165 cf. Butler 1988: 526 [summarizing Victor Turner]: "social action requires a performance which is repeated. This 166 repetition is at once a reenactment and reexperiencing of a set of meanings already socially established; it is the mundane and ritualized form of their legitimation." ! of ! 94 214 intentional act on behalf of the actor. Much social performance is done unreflectively, such as the passive acceptance of gender roles: wearing a tie or a dress is a performance of gender. Nor, as this example shows, is performance inherently fictive or inauthentic. Performativity evokes the fictiveness of all social acts in as far as they help reconstitute their own contexts. But to treat 167 performance as fictive or deceptive would assume that there is a less deceptive, more normative way to be a social actor. A man in a dress might seem strange or out of place, but it is no less performative than when a woman wears one, unless that man is on stage as a drag performer. The extent to which the social dramas in Theocritus should be read as performed will be addressed on a case by case basis. Performativity allows us to ask important questions about Theocritus that have not yet be sufficiently answered. One question that many readers acknowledge is the purpose and function of the goatherd's ecphrasis of the cup in Idyll 1 (1.27-56). Many point to this passage as emblematic of Theocritean pastoral, but do not concern themselves with its role in the narrative. How do we read this passage as a social act? The ecphrasis is a performance in the poetic sense-- ecphrasis is a common trope Greek poetry and even develops into the independent genre of the ecphrastic epigram--but also a performative act in a social sense. It makes a statement about the relationship of the goatherd and Thyrsis, and Thyrsis responds, as we will see. The other two poems I will discuss in this chapter evoke the conventional association of vision with erotic performance. In Idyll 6, Polyphemus is chastised for not looking at Galatea (5q /,/ +A *+0B$230#, 6.8). He reveals that he plans to seduce her by withholding his gaze (+A *+5B$2µ,, 6.25). This plan relies on his evaluation of his appearance as beautiful (6.35-39). Unlike his This is what I take Butler to mean when she says: "As performance which is performative, gender is an ’act,’ 167 broadly construed, which constructs the social fiction of its own psychological interiority" (1988: 528). ! of ! 95 214 counterpart in Idyll 11, this Polyphemus does not recognize how he is seen through others' eyes. His gaze would allow him to perform the role of lover, but instead he lapses into solpsistic self- reflection. The goatherd of Idyll 3 recognizes the importance of vision to erotic performance, but like Polyphemus in Idyll 11, struggles with the absence of his beloved. Although a portion of his address to her is a poetic performance, the whole address is performative in a social sense. He attempts to articulate specific roles for himself and his love. This performance is ultimately aimed at situating the goatherd and Amaryllis, i.e. at making them intelligible to each other and providing a pre-conceived erotic frame for their interaction. Like the plan of Polyphemus and the goatherd's performance of the cup, this attempt at using vision to gain social standing will fail. 1. Situated Perspectives in Idyll 3 The third Idyll features one speaker, and the entire narrative trajectory of the poem derives from the speech of this nameless goatherd. The goatherd addresses and then serenades an absent maiden, Amaryllis, who he suggests remains hiding in her cave. Unlike Idyll 11, this variation on the paraclausithyron features no authorial frame to characterize the nature or intent of his song. Furthermore, while the mention of a "cure for love" (11.1) in that poem has led many to propose Polyphemus' speech as a therapeutic self-treatment, Idyll 3 forces readers to draw 168 our own conclusions about the goatherd's intent. The goatherd in Idyll 3 gives less attention to himself and his feelings than Polyphemus and more attention to his potential lover. The intent of his speech and song seems simple: to get the girl to come out of her cave and engage in an erotic relationship with him. As is typical, vision serves a major role in the fostering of that erôs (cf. Calame 1999: 20-23), despite the fact that neither the goatherd nor the audience ever see her. The Cf. Erbse 1965; Holtsmark 1966; Goldhill 1991: 254-59; Faraone 2006. 168 ! of ! 96 214 goatherd's serenade focuses on vision and suggests that a visual interaction with her will garner him some power to control the direction of their relationship. The goatherd articulates a particular viewing position for Amaryllis and a potential erotic role for her in relation to himself. Previous study of this poem has indicated that the goatherd's theatricality and speech patterns, especially his use of deixis, delineate his performativity and the role that he adopts (Payne 2007: 62-63), but attention to his representation of vision will also reveal how he formulates a role for Amaryllis. The goatherd's speech to Amaryllis emphasizes her vision and continually situates it in an erotic context. Several times he solicits her gaze. He reproaches her for not peeking out at him from her cave (*#$-;*5+,3#, 3.7). He even explicitly begs her to look at him (0z3#, µ1/, 3.12). Later, he expresses a wish for her to see him and poses beneath a pine in case she does 169 (*+5J 57/ *'5%/ j>? H*+-&,/06'(, / -#' -4 µ? L3Q( *+5'>+,, 3.38-9). Her vision seems to be at the forefront of his thoughts. He wonders, like Polyphemus in Idyll 11, whether he appears ugly to her (3.8-9). The goatherd's cajoling tone and repeated attention to Amaryllis' vision are accompanied by other overt signs of wooing, including a garland (3.21), a gift of apples (3.10), and amorous epithets for his beloved (3.6, 18). The garland is meant to decorate the goatherd and make him appear attractive. A deictic adverb indicates that the apples he offers are presented 170 to her sight (à/'>6 5+, >4-# µz&# 84$Q, 3.10). He begins a lengthy apostrophe with the epithet 171 "winsomely glancing" (K 5. -#&./ *+0+$6C3#, 3.18). This description highlights her vision even Wakker's conclusions about the attitudinal particle µ1/ suggest that this phrase is focused on her actual vision and 169 not some more metaphorical use of the command "look!" (Wakker 1996: 260-61). For the likelihood that the garland is withered and no longer looks flattering, cf. Hunter 1999: 117. 170 For the largely visual function of the deictic adverb, see Chapter 1. 171 ! of ! 97 214 as it makes it an aspect of her beauty, i.e. the object of his vision (cf. Hunter 1999: 199). This repeated emphasis on Amaryllis' vision makes it clear that one of the primary aims of the goatherd's speech is simply to get the nymph to look at him. This solicitation of her gaze is part and parcel of the goatherd's solicitation of her love more generally. Even the myths in the goatherd's extemporaneous song seem to emphasize the female viewer. The goatherd's song, a condensed series of myths (3.40-51), also focuses on the female viewer as a part of an erotic encounter. All but one of these myths can be read within such a frame. This inset song may represent a dramatic "aside" no longer directed at Amaryllis (cf. Hunter 1999: 122), but nevertheless its myths almost certainly provide exempla for the wished- for romance of the goatherd and Amaryllis (Dover 1971: 117-18). Most critics notice that these exempla, despite describing successful erotic encounters, end with death or some other bad end for the male lover, a fact which implicates the goatherd as a naive or oblivious composer (Fantuzzi 1996: 22-27). My aim in focusing on the motif of the female gaze in these myths is to show that they do not just fulfill his wish for romance, but also frame this romance specifically in terms of the female viewer. The late and fragmentary testimony for some of these myths, particularly the love of Selene for Endymion and Demeter for Iasion, make specific claims about their meaning difficult to produce. Nevertheless, the theme of female erotic vision seems to be a common component connecting the myths. The first myth which the goatherd mentions is that of Atalanta, who "as she saw [the golden apples], was maddened, and dove into deep love" (g >? ~5#&1/5# a( L>6/, a( =µ1/2, a( ! of ! 98 214 =( W#0q/ m&#5? S$Q5#, 3.42). In the usual myth of Atalanta, she accepts Hippomenes as a 172 suitor after he defeats her in a race, but here she is overcome with love just at the sight of the apples, as if they are a successful love token rather than a trick to win the race. Comparing this scene with the goatherd's attempt to lure Amaryllis out of her cave by showing her apples (3.10) suggests that the figures in the myth may serve as analogues for the goatherd and Amaryllis (Lawall 1967: 40). This example offers an explicit parallel between the myth and the goatherd's own situation, but in the rest of the myths the parallels are only implicit. The final three myths in the goatherd's song each refer to a goddess who falls in love with a mortal. In addition to inverting the usual gendered power dynamic of Greek heterosexual love, each of these pairings may also exemplify the female goddess' erotic gaze. In the case of Adonis, his beauty and its effect on Aphrodite are well known (e.g. Ovid Met. 10.529-32). In Idyll 3, 173 Adonis' beauty is not explicitly mentioned, but we are told that =/ å$63, µX&# /+µ6;Q/ ... °>Q/,( =*J **&4+/ @I#I6 &;33#( "tending his sheep in the mountains, Adonis drove her especially mad" (3.46-47). These lines present the reader with the enigma of Adonis shepherding in the mountains and Aphrodite falling in love with him from afar. A precedent for this exists in the story of Aphrodite's love for Anchises (Hom. Hymn 5.53-57): 174 "I<'36Q >? @$# +E I&%-q/ `µ6$+/ SµW#&6 0%µ_, ¢( 5B5? =/ H-$+*B&+,( b$63,/ *+&%*,>1-+% õ>2( I follow the reading of Hunter (1999: 24), although the Greek is less clear, simply saying "Atalanta saw." What 172 she sees is not indicated and could be Hippomenes himself or his winning of the race. The most important aspect of this scene for my purpose is that Atalanta is the viewer and Hippomenes provides what she sees, whether this is his own appearance or the apples. In an alternative version of this myth, Aphrodite hides Adonis in a chest and entrusts him to Persephone because 173 of his beauty, but Persephone opens the chest, and seeing him, refuses to return him (Ps.-Apoll. Bib. 3.14.4). Aphrodite's vision is not mentioned, but Persephone's response to her sight of Adonis likely mirrors Aphrodite's. Anchises and Adonis are grouped together as lovers of Aphrodite in Daphnis' jibe at the goddess in Idyll 1 174 (1.105-110). ! of ! 99 214 W+%-+&463-6/ W+C( >4µ#( H0#/15+,3,/ =+,-s(. 5./ >x*6,5# )>+C3# 8,&+µµ6,>9( "8$+>'52 à$13#5?, =-*1I&Q( >] -#57 8$4/#( `µ6$+( 6v&6/. [Zeus] threw into her heart sweet desire for Anchises, who was tending his heard on the highest peaks of many-springed Ida and resembled immortals in build. When Aphrodite loving to smile saw him, she fell in love, and desire seized her mind completely. The two passages share the herdsman in the mountains and the explicit indication that Aphrodite's mind was altered, although Theocritus uses the more abstract term lyssa rather than the physiological description of the hymn (`µ6$+/ SµW#&6 0%µ_ ... -#57 8$4/#( `µ6$+( 6v&6/). 175 This type of supplementary allusiveness is not unusual in Theocritus. Furthermore, the 176 description of Adonis is placed in juxtaposition with the story of Atalanta by means of subtle punning: Hippomenes woos Atalanta by holding mâla while Adonis woos Aphrodite by tending his mêla. This punning juxtaposition of the Atalanta and Adonis myths may also encourage the 177 reader to recognize the implicit gaze of Aphrodite within these lines by analogy with the explicit gaze of Atalanta. The other two myths, of Demeter loving Iasion and Selene loving Endymion, are of a similar type. Endymion, like Adonis, was known for his superlative beauty, which the goddess sees and which enchants her. Although again the goddess' gaze is not explicitly mentioned, the 178 Lyssa is a personification of madness (Padel 1992: 162-63), while thumos and phrenes are part of a metaphorical 175 anatomy of madness (ibid: 33-40). For Plato, both lyssa and mania are effects of erôs (Leges 839a). Vision in closely connected with mania in Plato's account of erôs (cf. Phaedr. 245b-52b); lyssa may evoke a similar sense at Id. 3.47. For example, in Idyll 6, Polyphemus refers to the prophecy of his blinding (6.23-24), which is described in the 176 Odyssey (9.507-12), but the Theocritean passage actually reworks Eurymachus' rebuke of the seer Halitherses (Od. 2.178-79; cf. Hunter 1999: 254). In Homer, both Polyphemus and Eurymachus are wounded by the treachery of Odysseus--Eurymachus is killed (Od. 22.79-88)--but the latter is a better analogue for this situation, since Theocritus' Polyphemus and Eurymachus are both failed suitors. For a broader discussion of arte allusiva or learned allusion in Hellenistic poetry, cf. Giangrande 1967 and 1970. Unlike Hippomenes, Adonis does not have to do anything special to enflame Aphrodite with love, and the 177 implication may be that he does it unintentionally. cf. Ps.-Apoll. Bib. 1.7.5: 5+;5+% -1&&6, >,6/6I-B/5+( à$1302 Å6&O/2 "Selene loved that one because he excelled 178 in beauty." ! of ! 100 214 goatherd does profess his envy for the sleeping Endymion (3.49-50), and most forms of the myth emphasize that when Endymion sleeps Selene watches. In the Argonautica, Mênê, another appellation of Selene, complains of being unable to satisfy her love for Endymion when Medea makes her provide a dark night, i.e. leave the sky (Arg. 4.57-61). The goddess' gaze is not explicitly mentioned, but it is implicit in her complaint at having to leave the sky from where she can see her beloved. Although composed much later, the versions of Lucian and Quintus of Smyrna make this gaze explicit. 179 The early literary evidence for this gaze is hard to reconstruct. Sappho seems to be the first source for this story, although her version is no longer extant (Page 1955b: 273-74). 180 Stehle notes that parallels with Aphrodite and Adonis suggest a potential content for Sappho's lost story of Selene and Endymion (1996: 224): Endymion is sleeping, Adonis dying. By portraying a man's 'strengthlessness,' Sappho reinstates hierarchy: the young man is demoted to passivity and the goddess prevails. The goddess can gaze at the young man with a possessive look. The exact relationship between Sappho's lost account of Selene and Endymion and Idyll 3 is impossible to know, but if Stehle's conjecture is correct, Sappho's representation of these figures Lucian Dialog. Deor. 19.1: 5' 5#C5#, K Å6&O/2, 8#3J *+,6D/ 36; n*B5#/ -#57 59/ i#$'#/ I4/P, E351/#, µ4/ 36 5. 179 h6CI+( H8+$c3#/ =( 5./ £/>%µ'Q/# -#06;>+/5# G*#'0$,+/ m56 -%/2I452/ b/5#, =/'+56 >] -#J -#5#W#'/6,/ *#$? #A5./ =- µ432( 5X( n>+C; "Why, Selene, do they say you do these things? Whenever you are in Caria, you stop your car and stare at Endymion sleeping in the open air since he is a hunter, and sometimes you even go down beside him in the middle of your journey." Quint. Smyrn. Posthom. 10.127-31: @/5$+/ G*. h106+/ -#&&,*&+-1µQ/ §%µ81Q/ ö<' *+5? £/>%µ,s/# *#$%*/s+/5# WB633,/ GTB06/ H0$O3#3# -#5O&%06 >D# Å6&O/2 +A$#/B06/M >$,µq( I7$ @I6/ *B0+( à,04+,+ H0#/152/ *6$ =+C3#/ H-O$#5+/... Under the hallowed cave of the beautiful-tressed nymphs, where divine Selene once saw from above Endymion sleeping beside his flock, and came down from the sky. For sharp desire of the youth drove her although she was a virgin goddess. The testimony comes from the Scholia to Argonautica 4.57, which is mentioned above. 180 ! of ! 101 214 is typical of later literary and artistic versions of the scene. A common artistic representation of 181 Selene and Endymion shows the goddess looking down on him, while he either sleeps or looks away. Other plastic versions show the two in a reciprocal gaze, although Selene still gazes 182 down from above in a position of power. The activity of Selene and the passivity of Endymion 183 seem to determine the visual schema of the myth, in which Endymion is put to sleep and thus can no longer return Selene's look. The goatherd's jealousy of a sleeping Endymion (Id. 3.49-50) may show his desire for a passive role in the encounter, if not for Endymion's position as the object of a female gaze. The myth of Demeter and Iasion has fewer extant representations to aid interpretation, but seems to be a similar type. Iasion, like Adonis and Endymion, appears to be a beautiful youth, while Demeter is usually represented as the initiator. The famous mention of Iasion 184 185 and Demeter by Calypso frames this pair as emblematic of a relationship where a goddess actively pursues a mortal lover (Od. 5.118-26). Although Demeter is the active pursuer, Calypso This scene would have stood out in Sappho, whose poems do not often depict objectifying gazes, cf. Stehle 1996: 181 224: "Selene's gaze on Endymion must have been straightforward, the gaze that Sappho's poetry usually avoids constructing." LIMC "Endymion" 19, 22, 24, 25, 28, 29, 31, 46, 50, 53. 182 LIMC "Endymion" 14, 37, 61. However, Endymion's open eyes may not signify an active gaze since one version 183 of the myth has him put to sleep with his eyes open in order to make his full beauty visible to the goddess (Licymnius of Chios at Ath. Deip. 13.564C). The scarcity of textual and material testimony for the Iasion myth makes any characterization of it provisional. I 184 have found no textual testimony which refer to Iasion's appearance. The LIMC entry for Iasion identifies only one certain iconographic representation of Iasion, a pottery fragment, and one potential representation. The former depicts Iasion in a Phrygian cap, but his curly hair may be a sign of youthful beauty (LIMC V .1.628). The idealized nudity of the second, less certain representation would make Iasion's beauty more explicit, if its connection to him were more clear (LIMC "Demeter" 390; cf. "Aphrodite" 1367). A variant that focuses on the punishment of Iasion represents him as the active lover (e.g. Apollodorus 3.138), but 185 the male as source of erotic stimulus and the goddess as lover persist in sources which focus on the love rather than the punishment, e.g. Diod. Sicul. 5.49.1: ^Oµ25$#/ µ]/ •#3'Q/+( =$#306D3#/ 5./ -#$*./ 5+C 3'5+% >Q$O3#30#, "Demeter, after she fell in love with Iasion, bestowed on him the harvest of grain." ! of ! 102 214 still makes clear that she "yielded to her passion" (ã 0%µ_ 6LZ#3#, Od. 5.126). The cause of this passion is not mentioned, but it would not be unusual for it to be the mortal's beauty. 186 All of these myths have the potential to highlight the female gaze, especially within the frame of the Idyll's attention to Amaryllis' vision. Only the last two myths explicitly state the goatherd's envy for mortals who obtain immortal lovers, but they all offer a potential parallel for the goatherd and Amaryllis. The role he sets out for himself is that of a captivating young man, and the role he sets out for Amaryllis is that of a goddess driven to love by the sight of the young man. The goatherd's failure to convince Amaryllis to look at him places him in ironic juxtaposition with these figures.One might object that the goatherd's references to the myths of Adonis, Endymion, and Iasion do not explicitly refer to the goddess' vision. Only the myth of Atalanta does this. But the same can be said of the "unhappy endings" which Fantuzzi identifies (1996: 23). Of these, only Adonis' death is explicitly mentioned in the text of the poem (Id. 3.48). On the one hand, such an inferential reading of these myths must necessarily be speculative; on the other hand, Greek myths rarely present an explicit moral and almost always demand some inferential reasoning. The myths of Adonis, Endymion, and Iasion all share a love-story in which a beautiful young man arouses the desire of a goddess. The extent to which vision would have to be mentioned in such a story is unclear, because the beauty of the young men may make the goddesses' vision already implicit. The goatherd's reference to the "uninitiated" (W4W#&+,, Id. 3.51), which might well include Amaryllis, probably 186 alludes to the Eleusinian mysteries. (The plural seems to indicate a generalized group of which Amaryllis is part, cf. Hunter 1999: 128.) The meaning of such an allusion is hard to determine due to our incomplete understanding of that ritual. Nevertheless, the mysteries do seem to center on some form of visual revelation (Foley 1994: 38-39, 54, 66, 68-70). Perhaps, the goatherd's identification of Amaryllis as uninitiated serves as one last attempt to lure Amaryllis into looking at him by tempting her with the promise of a forbidden sight. ! of ! 103 214 The focus on the nymph's vision in Idyll 3 is written even into the character herself. The name of the goatherd's potential beloved has visual connotations. Amaryllis' name comes from the verb amarrusein which can denote both shimmering and a quick look. The name, along with the many requests from the goatherd for the nymph to look, suggests that the character can be reduced to "the essence of a flashing glance, or the personification of the seductiveness inherent in that glance" (Gutzwiller 1991: 119). This symmetry between the name of the nymph and the 187 goatherd's expectancy about her behavior explains why some have seen Amaryllis as a figment of his imagination (Hunter 1999: 109, 113). The fact that the verb from which she derives her name refers to an evanescent visual appearance further supports this hypothesis. Another reason for thinking that Amaryllis is a figment of the goatherd's imagination is the fact that she never actually appears in the poem. The goatherd emphasizes this absence at the one point in which he speaks of his own vision (3.37-39): m&&65#, V80#&µB( µ6% n >6Z,B(: l w1 I? )>23c #A51/; ¶36Cµ#, *+5J 57/ *'5%/ j>? H*+-&,/06'(, -#' -4 µ? L3Q( *+5'>+,, =*6J +A- H>#µ#/5'/# =35'/. My right eye leaps. So will I see her? I'll recline here beneath the pine and sing, and maybe she'll look at me, since she's not made of adamant. This explicit reference to his vision is not paralleled elsewhere in the poem, and suggests for the first time that the goatherd might seek a more active role as lover. This expectation is immediately subverted, however, when he poses beneath the tree in hopes of her gaze. The importance of Amaryllis for the goatherd seems to be her capacity to confirm his existence by means of her sight. Like Pirandello's Moscarda looking in the mirror, the goatherd reveals the There is some indeterminacy in Gutzwiller's account between the sparkle/shimmer as an something seen and as a 187 denoting Amaryllis as viewer. The base meaning of amarussein probably refers to the shimmer which can be seen, rather than to the sight of the eye that creates it. ! of ! 104 214 necessity of reciprocity for social vision. Also like Pirandello, this passage reveals the dangerous solipsism of isolated viewing. Commentators note that the leaping right eye is a sign of positive things to come in certain forms of divination (Gow II 72-3; Hunter 1999: 21). I do not question the allusion to divination, but I do think closer attention to the speaker is necessary. The allusion to divination serves as the context for the goatherd's own interpretation of this sign. Earlier in the poem he has confessed to consulting a sieve-diviner (3.31-32) and playing an equivalent of "she- loves-me-not" with flower petals (3.29-30, see below). But for the reader, a more fitting parallel may be the common tendency for a twitching eye to serve as a sign of mental or physical abnormality. The text that precedes the goatherd's prediction offers little suggestion that he 188 predicts correctly, and the poem ends without the girl appearing. The goatherd's twitching eye and misinterpretation of it becomes a means for the reader to evaluate him. The goatherd uses his perception of his eye to reflect on the world around him rather than on himself, which is consistent with his behavior in the rest of the poem. This description of his eye is one of the few moments when the audience of the poem gets to imagine how he looks, but all of them, like the close-up of the twiching eye, seem grotesque. We also see his snub-nose and pointy beard (3.8-9) and his soon-to-be frayed garland (3.21-23, see above). A successful erotic encounter requires reciprocal vision. Both the absence of Amaryllis and the goatherd's undesirable appearance 189 discount the likelihood of such reciprocity in Idyll 3. Despite the failure of the goatherd's intent, he clearly frames his potential interaction with Amaryllis as one in which her sight of him would Herophilus, for example, considers spasms to be a voluntary action of the nerves (V on Staden 1989: §149; cf. 188 §140a for the eye as controlled by nerves). This medical schema would interpret the spasm as representing not an external sign of things to come, but the goatherd's own intentions. Cf. also unusual movements of the eyes in the symptomology of tragic madness (Padel 1992: 60). Idyll 3 is typical in indicating this reciprocity through its absence, i.e. the correlation of unrequited love and and 189 unreciprocated gazes (cf. Blundell at al 2013: 17-19). ! of ! 105 214 lead to their assumption of the roles of lover and beloved. In Haraway's terms, the potential for an erotic encounter "situates" the vision of Amaryllis. This vision serves as the primary means by which the goatherd attempts to orient the nymph with respect to himself. The type of erotic encounter that the goatherd imagines if he ever should be seen becomes significant when compared with the descriptions of his pitiful appearance. Since he makes Amaryllis' vision central to the erotic encounter, the goatherd must hope to overpower her vision with his beauty, as the youths Endymion and Adonis do the goddesses. But the few descriptions of his appearance suggest that this will not be possible. Like Moscarda, who desires to be seen differently, the goatherd attempts to achieve this effect through recourse to wild and inconsistent performances, including threats (Id. 3.9, 21, 25, 35-36, 54), pleas (3.7, 12, 19), fantasies (of being a bee: 3.12-14; of being eaten by wolves: 3.53), and the wishful exempla of his mythological song. There is something fundamentally incongruent with his approach. Despite all his aggression and activity, the goatherd aspires to the passive role: to be seen and pursued by Amaryllis. The male lover who takes an active role in courtship usually takes the active role as viewer as well. Consider the story of Cleophon and Nicarete from an epigram of Asclepiades (Gow and Page 820-23): §,-#$452( 5. *B0+,3, W6W&2µ4/+/ y>q *$B3Q*+/ *%-/1 >, ß GT2&c/ 8#,/Bµ6/+/ 0%$'>Q/ #E <#$+*#J i&6+8c/5+( =*J *$+0;$+,3, µ1$#/#/, i;*$, 8'&2, I&%-6$+C W&4µµ#5+( H356$+*#'. Nicarete’s sweet face struck with desires appears often through the high windows, dear Cypris, and is withered by the flashing bolts of Cleophon’s sweet glance on her doorstep. ! of ! 106 214 The dramatic situation of the epigram shares much with Idyll 3. The scene seems to be that of the kômos and is set outside the woman's residence (cf. -Qµ13>Q, 3.1). Cleophon's looks operate in much the same way that Amaryllis' appearance does when she is called "winsomely glancing" (K 5. -#&./ *+0+$6C3#, see above). There is a balancing of the action of looking, exemplified here by the power of the bolts, and the visual appearance of the looker, expressed by Cleophon's "sweet glance." Nicarete too is held between active and passive. The passive participles in the first two lines exemplify her passiveness, but the desires they arouse posit her as the infatuated pursuing partner, or in Gutzwiller's terms, the "desiring subject" (1998: 131-32). Unlike Amaryllis, Nicarete is present and her position at the window makes her able to both see and be seen by Cleophon. But the configuration of vision in the scene results in a drastic power imbalance in favor of the male partner. Her "sweet face" appears in the first two lines but only as a passive recipient of action, while in the final line the "sweet glance" of Cleophon--which 190 might refer either to the power of his vision or the appearance of his face --strikes the girl 191 violently. Cleophon's beauty is difficult to distinguish from the power inherent in his own vision. Amaryllis avoids becoming subject to such a violent exchange by being absent, and in 192 her absence the goatherd resorts to violent words, threatening to turn his violence on himself (Id. I have followed the reading of Palatine Codex in the first line, W6W&2µ4/+/, rather than Wilamowitz's emendation 190 W6W#µµ4/+/, adopted by Gow and Page. This reading is supported by both Cameron (1995: 498) and Gutzwiller (1998: 131). This ambiguity is part of the semantics of the word. In Euripides, the word is used to refer to an act of sight with 191 a short duration, which in this case is actually a day, but the passage makes clear that this is a shorter duration than one expects (Eur. Heracles 306). In Demosthenes' "Against Midias," the glance accompanies a violent strike and assumes the same momentary duration (Dem. 21.72). On the other hand, in Aristophanes, the word refers to a person's appearance and bears little trace of the active position of viewing (Ar. Plut. 367, 1022). This power of vision seems to be only available to a male seducing a female. Cf. the warning of Danaus to his 192 daughters in Aeschylus' Suppliants: "and every man passing by, conquered by desire, sends an enchanted dart at the beauteous daintiness of maidens" (1003-5). Iphigenia also strikes her sacrificers with bolts from her eyes: "pouring her crocus robe to the ground, she struck each of her sacrificers with a piteous bolt from her eyes, looking as if in a painting" (Aes. Ag. 239-42). Despite the potentially erotic undertones of the passage, these glances, which seek to arouse pity, only emphasize her passivity (Rabinowitz 2013: 206-7). ! of ! 107 214 3.9, 25) and his garland (3.21). His threats, pleas, and complaints fail to entice the nymph out of her cave, and so the potential erotic role that he crafts for her is never fulfilled. The contrast between our goatherd and Asclepiades' Cleophon nevertheless reveals one important similarity. Cleophon exercises power over Nikarete in the way that the goatherd seems to want to control Amaryllis. Such control is usually only wielded by beautiful people, and our understanding of the goatherd's appearance, although rudimentary, suggests that he is not beautiful (see above). But beauty is not the only way that one can exercise power over another. 193 Erotic magic is a way for young men to break through the reluctance of a young women (Winkler 1990: 71-98).The goatherd, we know, has already consulted two magical resources to test whether Amaryllis loves him. First he plays a game in which the leaf or petal of a flower-- called the "love-in-absence"--is smacked on the skin, and if it sticks, this is a sign of attraction (3.28-30): SI/Q/ *$z/, U-# µ+,, µ6µ/#µ4/u 6) 8,&46,( µ6, +A>] 5. 52&48,&+/ *+56µ1Z#5+ 5. *&#51I2µ#, H&&? #e5Q( g*#&_ *+5J *1<6® =Z6µ#$1/02. I learned recently, when I was considering whether you loved me and the Love-in- Absence didn't cling on account of the smack, but thus withered on my smooth 194 forearm. We only have evidence for this procedure in these lines, the scholia to these lines, and the second century CE grammarian Pollux (cf. Hunter 1999: 119). None of these sources gives an exact understanding of the ritual and its components. What matters for our purposes is only that the goatherd resorts to magic to determine how Amaryllis really feels. The trick with the flower is a On the erotic power of beauty, cf. Xen. Cyropaedia 5.1.16; Halperin 1983: 63n5 193 This appears to be a type of flower petal or leaf (cf. Hunter 1999: 119). 194 ! of ! 108 214 fairly quotidian piece of magic, perhaps more a child's game than a serious spell. But the goatherd also visits a witchy old woman who uses more serious magic to confirm his suspicions (3.31-33): 195 6R*6 -#J g I$#'# 5H&#04# -+3-,/Bµ#/5,(, g *$z/ *+,+&+I6C3# r#$#,W15,(, +t/6-? =Id µ4/ 5J/ U&+( SI-6,µ#,, 5q >4 µ6% &BI+/ +A>4/# *+,F. And an old woman sieve-diviner told me the truth--Paraibatis, who was gathering herbs earlier--that I am wholly devoted to you, but you make no account of me. As with the goatherd's flower game, the precise nature of coscinomancy in the ancient world is not immediately clear, nor is it particularly relevant to our inquiry. We need only take note of 196 the fact that the goatherd first uses his own rudimentary magical knowledge to divine whether Amaryllis loves him and then consults a professional. Has he also sought further magical services, such as a love spell? Such love spells were very common in antiquity, almost always 197 utilized by men (Winkler 1990: 90). In Idyll 3, the goatherd makes no mention of a love spell, 198 but we also should not expect him to. Because the goatherd stands just outside Amaryllis' cave and addresses his words to her, any mention of his recourse to magical seduction would risk her I cite the text of Hunter, which has superseded that of Gow. The main differences are in whether a graia (Agroeo) 195 or paraibatis are the woman's name. For Hunter's defense of his reading, cf. 1999: 119-120. For a suggestive guess as to how the practice worked, cf. Arnott 1978, who cites Gow's reading of these lines. 196 The description of Atalanta's enticement by the golden apples resembles the result of a love spell (cf. Faraone 197 1999: 73). Literary representations of love magic, on the other hand, frequently invert this demographic by making women 198 the practitioners of erotic magic, as in Idyll 2. In that poem, Simaetha works with her slave to cast a powerful love spell upon Delphis. The reader witnesses her magic rituals and incantations, which are openly represented in the text but unknown to her beloved. ! of ! 109 214 discovery of his supernatural assistance. If there is a love spell lurking under this text, the 199 reader must deduce it from implicit signs. 200 Erotic magic was commonly used by people like our goatherd. Such a spell would aim to instill in the beloved a love that equals and counterbalances the desperation of the one casting the spell (Winkler 1990: 88-89). The goatherd's desperation has been outlined above, but now we 201 have a means to explain the relationship of this desperation to his extreme focus on vision. Eye- contact was one means of executing an ancient love spell (Winkler 1990: 85). The goatherd's obsession with obtaining eye-contact with the nymph may reveal his hope that this eye-contact would exercise a supernatural erotic power far more effective than his threats and rhetorical ploys. In the epigram quoted above, Cleophon exercises such a power with his glance, although the source of this power is unclear, but a fragment of Sophocles suggests a source for that power (Soph. Oenomaus f. 474): 5+'#/ r4&QT L%II# 02$#52$'#/ S$Q5+(, H35$#*O/ 5,/? Vµµ15Q/, S<6,M ö 01&*65#, µ]/ #A5B(, =Z+*5â >? =µ4, L3+/ µ65$c/ +80#&µB/, ©356 54-5+/+( *#$7 3510µ2/ )B/5+( V$0+C5#, -#/s/. Such is the snaring spell of love which Pelops has, some lightning of the eyes. With this he warms himself and scorches me, measuring with equal eye, just as the guideline is set straight when a carpenter goes by the rule. On the importance of the ignorance of the victim for erotic magic, cf. Winkler 1990: 87. 199 A recent reading of Idyll 11 has found an implicit reference to magical incantations in that poem (Faraone 2006). 200 Idylls 11 and 3 are frequently identified as similar, so the discovery of a magical subtext in the former might strengthen our confidence about the relevance of this subtext to the latter. "The control exercised by the agent is in some part a control over his own desperation, summoning chthonic 201 powers to do terrible things, and puts him in a role opposed to that of the erotic victim he 'actually' is" (Winkler 1990: 89). ! of ! 110 214 Here we find an erotic power similar to that of Cleophon (I&%-6$+C W&4µµ#5+( H356$+*#'), but its cause is explicitly described as magical. Is this the effect which the goatherd hopes to 202 achieve by seeing and being seen by Amaryllis? Such a subtext would give new meaning to the image of goatherd's quivering eye (3.37), which in this context might appear as a supernatural weapon waiting to be discharged. The goatherd strives to be the passive partner who is pursued, but he acts as though he can obtain this role through some power that will be unleashed when the two characters exchange glances. Amaryllis' absence and refusal to return his glance means that the goatherd is unable to use this power. Whether through magical means, or simply the product of pure fantasy, the goatherd has in mind some situation in which his exchange of gazes with Amaryllis will end his pursuit of the nymph and result in a more stable, well-established relationship. Whether the goatherd intends to perform some kind of love magic or not, we can return more generally to the idea of performance by also returning to the words of Pirandello, who speaks explicitly of the relationship between a character and the drama he performs (Pirandello 1998: xxiv, italics in original): What is it for a character--his drama? ... in order to exist, [he] must have his drama, that is, a drama in which he is a character. This drama is the character's raison d'etre, his vital function, necessary for his existence. Here, Pirandello speaks not about Moscarda but about the Characters from Six Characters in Search of an Author: the Father, the Stepdaughter, the Mother, the Son, the Girl, and the Boy. But in a sense, his conclusion applies equally well to Moscarda, who is compelled to fulfill his own drama of seeing and being seen. In his commentary on the six Characters, Pirandello claims The magical power is identified with the iunx which Simaetha calls upon to empower her spell in Idyll 2. 202 ! of ! 111 214 to have "rejected" them, i.e. he accepts that they exist but refuses to allow them to play out their assigned narratives, to fulfill the drama that is their raison d'etre (Pirandello 1998: xxiii). Instead they grope to express their stories without a setting or plot, struggling against the inertia of their stillborn existence. The goatherd of Idyll 3 struggles with the existential crises of both Moscarda and the Characters. He knows no raison d'etre except to be seen by Amaryllis. But Amaryllis remains absent, and the drama of this poem consists largely of the goatherd's attempts to compensate for that absence. Amaryllis' absence makes this poem perhaps the paradigmatic example of "situated vision" in Theocritus. If she were to appear, she might be both seen and able to see--as the goatherd makes clear (3.37-39)--but in her absence she remains unseen and all that remains is the framework which the goatherd constructs to situate her and her vision, a framework that is made more evident by means of her absence. 2. Failed Performance, Failed Perception: Polyphemus' Plan in Idyll 6 Idyll 6 introduces a novel viewing situation in Theocritus. The erotic setting resembles that of Idyll 3 and obviously that of Idyll 11, which are commonly identified as "beauty and the beast" poems for their combination of a desirable maiden and a grotesque male lover. In Idylls 203 11 and 3, there is no exchange of erotic vision between the male lover and the maiden because she is not present. The most these male lovers can do is imagine how they appear before the cf. Hughes Fowler 1989: 57; Gutzwiller 1991: 105-133. The first documented use of this phrase that I can find 203 appears in Schmiel 1975: 33. ! of ! 112 214 maiden's eyes (Id. 11.31-33, 3.8-9). The novelty of Idyll 6 is that here the maiden pursues 204 Polyphemus. Daphnis' song details her advances: she hurls apples at his flock and his dog, and calls out to him (6.6-9). This role reversal also provides Polyphemus and Galatea with new viewing positions. Unlike the goatherd of Idyll 3, who begs Amaryllis to look at him, Polyphemus is admonished by Daphnis for not looking at Galatea: -#J 5; /,/ +A *+0B$230#, 51&#/ 51&#/, H&&7 -1023#, / g>4# 3%$'3>Q/ "and you, foolish fool, you don't look at her, but you sit and sweetly pipe" (6.8-9). As in Idyll 3, vision is the main focus of the narrative, but 205 this poem contrasts two modes of vision: vision as performance and vision as perception. Daphnis' admonishment aims to help Polyphemus perform the role that he seeks in Idyll 11: successful suitor of Galatea. Because vision is such an important part of erôs, by not looking at the nymph, Polyphemus implicitly derails his chances of successfully wooing her. Polyphemus Polyphemus hints at an exchange of gazes with Galatea when he says (11.19-20, 24, 27-28): 204 ù™ &6%-7 ò#&156,#, 5' 5./ 8,&4+/5? H*+W1&&P; &6%-+54$# *#-5z( *+5,>6D/... 86;I6,( >? ©3*6$ b,( *+&,./ &;-+/ H0$O3#3#... *#;3#30#, >? =3,>s/ 5% -#J t356$+/ +A>? S5, *f /C/ =- 5O/Q >;/#µ#,M Oh white Galatea, why do you flee the one who loves you? You are whiter than quark to look at... you flee like a sheep who has seen a grey wolf... Later, from that time and even now, I have not been able to stop looking at you. In these lines, Polyphemus seems to fashion a gaze exchange between himself and Galatea. His description of her appearance evokes his own vision with the verb *+5,>6D/. His simile comparing her to a sheep bestows her with a figurative act of vision, although he is forced to acknowledge that this vision has led to her flight. Nevertheless, the selection of this detail to describe her reticence suggests a viewing position for her. Polyphemus' description of his love at first sight provides a further act of vision which responds to hers. Polyphemus will invoke Galatea's vision again when he describes how his face appears to the maiden (11.30-33). This short sequence creates a fictitious visual exchange that seems appropriate to the erotic intent of Polyphemus' song. Of course, because Galatea is absent, this exchange only exists as a figment of his speech. Cusset describes "la vue" as "une isotopie dominante dans les deux chants" (2011: 87). In addition to 6.8, 205 Daphnis calls upon Polyphemus' vision with a deictic adverb and imperative form of n$1Q (*1&,/ m>?, L>6, 57/ -;/# W1&&6, "look that one tosses back at your dog"). The dog's watchful vision is described (6.10-11) and may be meant as a model for Polyphemus (cf. Hunter 1999: 251; Cusset 2011: 97-98). The end of Daphnis' song refers to Polyphemus' appearance (6.18-19, see below). Polyphemus' response mentions his vision (6.21-22, 6.25, 6.35) and Galatea's vision (6.28, 6.31), before also ending with a description of his appearance (6.35-38). Acosta-Hughes recognizes the importance of vision to Idylls 3 and 6 and refers to the "evasive eye-contact" with the beloved in both (2006: 45). ! of ! 113 214 eschews participation in an erotic gaze exchange for a more complicated plan, which is based on his different perception of his appearance. Polyphemus considers himself beautiful, and plans to withhold his gaze in order to draw the nymph to him. This plan, like the serenades of the goatherd in Idyll 3 and Polyphemus in Idyll 11, is doomed to fail, but it fails for different reasons. The absence of Polyphemus' gaze, not of the maiden herself, causes the failure of the erotic situation in this poem. The dramatic form of this song differs from that of Idylls 3 and 11. In those poems, an isolated speaker sings to an absent maiden. In Idyll 6, however, the story of Polyphemus is performed in two parts by young herdsmen. Daphnis, perhaps the same Daphnis from Idyll 1 (cf. Payne 2007: 96-97), sings a short piece which establishes the plot and setting of Polyphemus' new story (6.6-19): Galatea pursues Polyphemus, but Polyphemus does not respond. The other herdsman, Damoetas, responds in the voice of Polyphemus and explains the reasons for his actions. Since my focus is on the narrative of Polyphemus, where the references to vision appear, I will not linger over the interpretation of the narrative frame, which has been well-studied by others. For Payne, the frame reveals the fundamental literariness of Polyphemus, i.e. his 206 character is "performative" (Payne 2007: 98). Damoetas performs as Polyphemus, but the Polyphemus he performs as also seems aware of his actions as social performance, as we will see. As in Idyll 11, a major component of this Polyphemus story will consist of attempts to explain and justify the behavior of the characters. 207 Gutzwiller (1991: 123-33) explores the way that the poem carefully scaffolds several analogical pairs: Galatea 206 and Polyphemus, Daphnis and Damoetas, Theocritus and Aratus (addressed in line 2). Bowie explains how the songs of Daphnis and Damoetas serve as a model for the erotic interaction between Theocritus and Aratus (1996: 91-95). Hunter explores how the poem reframes the figure of Daphnis from Idyll 1 (1999: 243-48). For the intertextuality of Idyll 6 with Idyll 11 more generally, cf. Köhnken 1996. 207 ! of ! 114 214 Although the dramatic situation of Daphnis' song makes Polyphemus, not Galatea, the one who spurns a lover's advances, the song ends with a familiar evocation of Polyphemus' ugliness (6.17-19): -#J 86;I6, 8,&4+/5# -#J +A 8,&4+/5# >,s-6,, -#J 5./ H*. I$#µµz( -,/6D &'0+/M l I7$ S$Q5, *+&&1-,(, K r+&;8#µ6, 57 µ9 -#&7 -#&7 *48#/5#,. She flees one loving and pursues one not loving, and she leaves no stone unturned. For often, Polyphemus, the ugly appears beautiful through love. The first line frames the romance of Polyphemus and Galatea in terms from Idyll 11. This line 208 uses the language of Polyphemus' own behavior in Idyll 11 to describe Galatea's behavior in this poem (>,s-6,(, 11.75; >,s-6,, 6.17). The axiomatic nature of this line offers a generalized explanation of the behavior of the nymph, but Idyll 6 introduces an important semantic and 209 conceptual difference between the behaviors of Polyphemus and Galatea. Polyphemus is either "loving" or "not loving," but Galatea experiences erôs. philia and erôs are both familiar Greek words to describe love, but while the former describes a behavior, the latter describes an experience. This focus on Polyphemus' love as behavior encourages him to act. Daphnis 210 211 also confirms a fact that we known from Idyll 11 and perhaps from a general understanding of Cyclopes: Polyphemus is ugly (57 µ9 -#&7). Because the influence of erôs makes Galatea In that poem, he beseeches her: † &6%-7 ò#&156,#, 5' 5./ 8,&4+/5? H*+W1&&P; "oh white Galatea, why do you 208 spurn the one loving?" (11.19). After his song fails he asks himself: 5' 5./ 86;I+/5# >,s-6,(; "why do you pursue the one fleeing?" (11.75). The first phrase of 6.17 summarizes Galatea's behavior in Idyll 11 and recalls the phrasing of that poem. Cf. Id. 11.30: I,/s3-Q, <#$'633# -B$#, 5'/+( +t/6-# 86;I6,( "I know, lovely maiden, why you flee." Ultimately, both poems allude to a Sapphic precedent (frag. 1.21-24). The tone of this line is proverbial (Cusset 2011: 111). 209 All of the major commentators agree that S$Q5, here calls attention to the experience of the lover (Gow II 123; 210 Hunter 1999: 252; Cusset 2011: 116). I do not read these lines as ironic or derisive, cf. Gutzwiller 1991: 126-127. Ott sees the attention to Polyphemus' 211 ugliness as an end of the lines in itself (1969: 78). Attention to this detail may be a source of humor, but the humor is not complete until Polyphemus responds to Daphnis' "set up." ! of ! 115 214 perceive him as beautiful (-#&7), Polyphemus need not take his ugliness as an obstacle to his pursuit as he did in Idyll 11 (cf. 11.30-33). That ugliness is still accepted as given but it no longer stands as a hindrance because erôs alters how Galatea sees him. The effect of erôs on her vision is interesting when we compare this poem with Idylls 11 and 3. In Idyll 3, as I have shown, the goatherd expects Amaryllis' vision to serve as a catalyst for her love. In Idyll 11, Polyphemus notes that his ugliness must be an impediment to Galatea loving him. In both cases, love results from (or rather, fails to result from) vision. But in Idyll 6, erôs occurs as the result of the lover's behavior (cf. 6.17), and that erôs results in an altered vision. With Galatea's vision altered in this way, Polyphemus might successfully complete the erotic gaze exchange and succeed in seducing the nymph. This explains Daphnis' reproach of Polyphemus for not looking at her: -#J 5; /,/ +A *+0B$230#, 51&#/ 51&#/ "and you, foolish fool, you don't look at her" (6.8-9). The vocative, talan, expresses surprise at Polyphemus' chosen behavior, as it does when Priapus applies the word to Daphnis himself in Idyll 1 (cf. Hunter 1999: 91; Id. 1.82). Polyphemus' reply acknowledges Daphnis' concern, but doesn't seem to 212 understand its significance. Polyphemus claims to have seen Galatea pursuing him, but he shows no interest in following Daphnis' advice to look at the nymph (6.21-28): 6R>+/ /#J 5./ rz/#, 5. *+'µ/,+/ g/'-’ SW#&&6, -+e µ’ S&#0’, +A 5./ =µ./ k/# 5./ I&%-;/, ã *+0+$_µ, =( 54&+( (#A57$ n µ1/5,( n pO&6µ+( S<0$? HI+$6;Q/ =<0$7 84$+, *+5J +R-+/, U*Q( 56-4633, 8%&133+,)M H&&7 -#J #A5.( =Id -/'hQ/ *1&,/ +A *+0B$2µ,, H&&’ @&&#/ 5,/7 8#µJ I%/#D-’ S<6/M g >’ H'+,3# h#&+D µ’ K r#,7/ -#J 51-65#,, =- >] 0#&133#( Daphnis and Polyphemus are both described as duserôs "wretched lover" (1.86, 6.7). It is perhaps of interest that 212 Priapus describes Daphnis as talan and duserôs, and associates these terms with vision (cf. 1.86-88; see below). ! of ! 116 214 +)35$6D *#*5#'/+,3# *+5’ @/5$1 56 -#J *+5J *+'µ/#(. I saw her, by Pan, when she was tossing at the flock. She didn't escape me, not by my one sweet [eye], with which might I see to the end (but the seer Telemos, who pronounces hateful things, let him bring his hateful words home so that he can keep them for his children.) But I myself also don't look back and provoke her. I tell her that I have some other woman. When she perceives this, she becomes jealous, by Paian, and she melts and stings glancing from the sea at my cave and my flock. Polyphemus' response immediately addresses Daphnis' concern from lines 8-9 by acknowledging that he has seen Galatea (6R>+/, 6.21). Polyphemus seems to misunderstand the distinction between the performative vision which Daphnis seeks and the perceptive vision which he himself notes. This is ironic because he seems to understand that Galatea's vision is important to the erotic encounter (see below), but misjudges how to use his own vision. Rather than follow 213 the admonition to action which ends Daphnis' song, Polyphemus proposes a different plan for seducing the nymph, which will only replicate the situation that Daphnis has already described. Polyphemus plans to continue to act "not loving," and thus to further enflame the nymph with erôs and encourage her to pursue him. Like the goatherd in Idyll 3, Polyphemus seems content to remain the passive partner. He echoes the exact wording of Daphnis' reproach when he describes his plan to not look at Galatea as a spur to make her love him more (+A *+0B$230#, 6.8; +A *+0B$2µ,, 6.25). Like Daphnis, he treats his vision as a behavior. But while Daphnis warned 214 that not looking would hurt his chances with the nymph, Polyphemus makes this behavior part of a longer, more convoluted scheme that nevertheless falls far short of a successful wooing. His goal is to make her feel further symptoms of erôs (51-65#,, 6.27 and +)35$6D, 6.28) and to make Galatea's vision, like that of Amaryllis in Idyll 3, is only evoked as a passive, receptive vision. 213 Cf. Cusset 2011: 135: "le maintien de la forme athématique renforce l'effet de permanence du comportement du 214 Cyclope." ! of ! 117 214 her look at him (*#*5#'/+,3#, 6.28; cf. H'+,3#, 6.26 and =3+$6C3#, 6.31). This plan will result in the same situation that Daphnis describes as already present. Polyphemus' erotic behavior is a kind of recursive system; it can only result in the situation from which it starts. An interesting comparison for Polyphemus' recursive scheme is the seduction of Simaetha by Delphis in Idyll 2. Polyphemus expresses hope that Galatea's sight of him will lead her to send a messenger: 5#C5# >? L3Q( =3+$6C3# *+6C/51 µ6 *+&&1-, *6µT6D / @II6&+/ "maybe when she sees me doing these things often, she will send a messenger" (6.31-32). 5#C5# refers to what I have called Polyphemus' plan for seducing Galatea. This situation resembles that of Idyll 2, in which Simaetha is struck by the beauty of Delphis (2.77-83) and sends a messenger to call him to her (2.96-101; cf. Hunter 1999: 256-57). In addition to refusing to look at her and lying about being pursued by another woman, Polyphemus also sics his dog on her (6.29). Such a plan is unnecessary for Delphis in Idyll 2, whose mere appearance arouses Simaetha's desire. When 215 Delphis is presented with an opportunity to take advantage of the besotted Simaetha, he does so. Polyphemus differs from Delphis in his decisiveness and also in his appearance. Daphnis' 216 admonition has already made clear that Galatea would find Polyphemus ugly if she were not experiencing erôs. Polyphemus, however, challenges this evaluation of his appearance. cf. 2.82: <o( L>+/, ë( =µ1/2/, ©( µ+, *%$J 0%µ.( )1802 "as I saw him I went mad and my heart was pierced by 215 fire." Perhaps relevant to this discussion, he adopts the demeanor of Odysseus: -#' µ?=3,>s/ ©35+$I+( =*J <0+/.( 216 bµµ#5# *1Z#( / kh65? =*J -&,/5X$, -#J YhBµ6/+( 815+ µC0+/ "and when he saw me, the unfaithful one fixed his eyes on the ground, sat on my bed, and sitting said..." (2.112-13). Cf. Il. 3.216-217: H&&? U56 >9 *+&;µ25,( H/#\Z6,6/ :>%336;( / 3513-6/, G*#J >] L>63-6 -#57 <0+/.( bµµ#5# *OZ#( "but when much-conniving Odysseus came up, he stood and fixed his eyes on the ground." cf. Segal 1984. Unlike his trickster nemesis, Polyphemus makes a less impressive plan. ! of ! 118 214 The second half of Damoetas' song gives a closer look at Polyphemus' perception. His reply to Daphnis ends with a description of his own appearance that challenges Daphnis' insinuation that he is ugly (6.34-38): -#J I1$ 02/ +A>? 6R>+( S<Q -#-B/, ©( µ6 &4I+/5,. l I7$ *$z/ =( *B/5+/ =34W&6*+/, l( >] I#&1/#, -#J -#&7 µ]/ 57 I4/6,#, -#&7 >4 µ6% g µ'# -s$#, a( *#$? =µJ/ -4-$,5#,, -#568#'/65+, 5c/ >4 5? V>B/5Q/ &6%-+54$#/ #AI7/ r#$'#( G*48#,/6 &'0+,+. For I don't, I think, have an ugly appearance, as they say of me. Just the other day I was looking into the sea--it was calm--and my beard and my one eye appeared beautiful, as it is judged by me, and it reflected the light of my teeth whiter than Parian marble. I1$ in the first line suggests, as this particle always does, that this information serves to explain what has come before it. His beautiful appearance serves to justify his plan. This focus on his 217 appearance at the end of his song mirrors the end of Daphnis' song, but provides a different reasoning (Gutzwiller 1991: 129). In short, Daphnis' song says, "look at her, she pursues you 218 and thinks you are beautiful, though you are ugly;" while Polyphemus says, "I will not look, and she will desire me more, because I am not ugly." As with Daphnis' admonition (see above), Polyphemus' description of his appearance alludes to Idyll 11. His description of his teeth as "whiter than Parian marble" copies the descriptions of Galatea that open his song in Idyll 11, most directly his description of her as "whiter than quark" (&6%-+54$# *#-5z(, 11.20). In Idyll 11, this comparison is based on Polyphemus' own rustic frame of reference (see Chapter 1), but The same series of particles occur in a line of the Iliad: -#J I1$ 02/ 5+;5u 5$Q5.( <$d( VZ4® <#&-_ "for even his 217 skin, I think, might be wounded by sharp bronze" (Il. 21.568). This parallel may juxtapose Polyphemus' seeming innocence with Achilles imminent attack against Agenor, but this allusion is uncertain (Cusset 2011: 155-56). Cf. I1$ in Daphnis' description of his ugliness (6.18). Polyphemus even echoes Daphnis' repetition of kala (6.36), 218 although neither consecutively nor with the famous variation in the scansion of the first syllables. ! of ! 119 214 in Idyll 6, he has chosen Parian marble, a sophisticated building material, which fits his 219 attempts to appear desirable. The other allusion to Idyll 11 in these lines is linked explicitly to his viewing perspective. When he claims a( *#$? =µJ/ -4-$,5#, ("as it is judged by me," 6.37), this reworks the description of Polyphemus as n *#$? gµD/ ("one of us," 11.7) in the framing narrative of Idyll 11. In Idyll 11, this line encourages the audience to sympathize with Polyphemus and consider his perspective (see prev. chap.). But in Idyll 6, Polyphemus uses this phrase to stake out his own perspective in contradiction to both the reader's expectation and the reality to which Daphnis refers at the end of his song. This evaluation of his appearance might be attributed to 220 the "horrible deceptiveness of sight" (Hunter 1999: 246). Polyphemus describes seeing his face and what he sees, but his description seems misjudged or a product of self-deception. 221 One might refer to Polyphemus' fixation on his appearance as "narcissistic" (e.g. Hunter 1999: 257-58), but the comparison to Narcissus is not quite right. In that myth, Narcissus is captivated by his own appearance (cf. Ov. Met. 3.415-17). But, as I have shown above, in this poem love affects vision, not vice versa. Galatea sees Polyphemus as beautiful because of erôs, but the cause of Polyphemus' similarly mistaken perception is unclear. Does he suffer from erôs for himself too? It is impossible to say for sure, but even if so, Polyphemus' self-love does not aid his courtship of Galatea. He uses vision to perceive and evaluate his own appearance, but 222 Parian marble was a highly sought-after building material often used in sculpture and architecture (New Pauly: 219 "Paros"). Strabo calls Parian stone "the best for sculpture in marble" (10.5.7). Cf. Hdt. 5.62.3. He should know the difference between beautiful (-#&7) and ugly (µX -#&7), but he does not. Polyphemus' 220 identification of his beard as beautiful contrasts with the goatherd in Idyll 3, who shows concern that his beard might appear unattractive (3.8-9, cf. Hunter 1999: 258). According to Gershenson (1969), the apotropaic spitting to ward off the evil eye which ends Polyphemus' speech 221 may act as a compliment to his supposed beauty. Such a compliment would be a fitting cap for his description of his appearance. cf. Gershenson, who compares Idyll 6 with the Ovid passage and concludes: "Nowhere in Idyll 6 does the 222 Cyclops risk falling in love with himself" (1969: 146-147). ! of ! 120 214 he should be using his gaze to perform the role of lover, as Daphnis suggests. erôs requires a reciprocal gaze, but Polyphemus' longing gaze at his own reflection is reflexive, not reciprocal. He fails to recognize the awful truth that Pirandello's Moscarda accepts: that his perception of his own appearance can't compare to what others see. 223 Polyphemus' response to Daphnis shows that he is more interested in choreographing the roles of viewer and viewed than of assuming the role of suitor. While the goatherd of Idyll 3 tries to manipulate his beloved's vision to gain her affection, the vision of Polyphemus' beloved has already been altered. Polyphemus, however, refuses to acknowledge the situatedness of Galatea's vision. He challenges Daphnis' assertion that a Cyclops can only be beautiful to one afflicted by erôs. Polyphemus defends his beauty as an objective truth, but by focusing on perception he fails to employ vision as part of an erotic performance. Polyphemus has, however, solved the goatherd's dilemma of not being seen by taking the task of viewing onto himself. His plan to enflame Galatea with his disinterest leads him to lapse into self-absorption, which perfectly explains his failed courtship. Both poems show a failed erotic encounter in which a character cannot create the right interplay of vision between lover and beloved. While Idyll 3 focuses on the absent gaze of Amaryllis, Idyll 6 shows how Polyphemus misdirects his own vision. 3. The Ecphrasis of the Cup: Goatherds' Visions in Idyll 1 The first Idyll of Theocritus depicts a goatherd and a singer, named Thyrsis, exchanging banter and works of art. The goatherd offers Thyrsis a cup, and in return Thyrsis sings a song about Daphnis. Vision is mentioned several times, both in the framing narrative and the set We also might note that in Idyll 6 Polyphemus demonstrates a pomposity similar to that of his Homeric 223 counterpart, who "knows no #)>c( [shame]" (Heubeck 1989: 21 on Od. 9.269-73) and gloatingly offers Odysseus the guest-gift of eating him last (Od. 9.369-70). Idyll 6 revives an aspect of the character which Idyll 11 downplays in lieu of a more plaintive characterization. This pomposity serves him just as badly in Idyll 6 as it does in his later dealings with Odysseus. ! of ! 121 214 pieces of the cup and the Daphnis song. This visual motif serves a similar function to that of Idylls 6 and 3: namely, vision is used by one character as a means of claiming a role in relation to another character. While in the previous two poems the roles were associated with erôs, in Idyll 1 the role is associated with bucolic song exchange. This shift entails one major difference in the social function of vision. While love relations in the ancient world often entailed differentiations of power and social standing, one who is wooing would not generally draw attention to this aspect of the intended coupling. The goatherd of Idyll 3 and Polyphemus in Idyll 6 appeal to the conjunctive power of the erotic encounter; they try to join themselves with the girl to create a social whole. The mediation of social roles that I discern in Idyll 1 is not conjunctive, but distinctive, in the sense that vision is used to distinguish the social standing of one character from the other. The crux of my reading of the poem relies on how we interpret the ecphrasis of the cup, which the goatherd performs. I consider how this passage reflects on the characterization of the goatherd, or rather, his attempt to characterize himself. It has become a commonplace in studies of the pastoral poems of Theocritus to talk of the naiveté or innocence of herdsmen. The characters of the goatherd and Thyrsis in Idyll 1 have 224 often been identified as fulfilling this expectation (Miles 1977: 145-156). This means of 225 reading the poem entails a series of assumptions about the import of this characterization. Innocent or naive characters are unlikely to engage in the types of social mechanisms that we have been discussing so far. Or if they do, they would do so unknowingly (cf. Miles 1977: 145). Even though the poem itself may question or reflect on this innocence, Thyrsis and the goatherd E.g. "Naiveté" and "simplicity" (Rosenmeyer 1969: 45-64), "idealized rural scenes" (Dover 1971: lvii), "ideal of 224 perfect innocence" (Miles 1977: 139), "humble rusticity of the characters" (Segal 1981: 8). Even Gutzwiller's reading, which notes a juxtaposition of naiveté and universal knowledge (1991: 84-93), serves 225 more as a qualification of this point than a re-evaluation of it. ! of ! 122 214 remain "unreflective" (Miles 1977: 156), unaware of the way the poem circumscribes the ideal world which they inhabit. I disagree with this characterization of the two herdsmen. I read the 226 goatherd as cognizant of his social standing and his ecphrasis as an attempt to elevate that standing. To be clear, I do not mean to dismiss the goatherd's naiveté or ignorance. In fact, this ignorance will be important to my reading of the end of the poem, but I reject a reading of the poem that assumes the characters are unaware of basic social distinctions. Herdsmen in other pastoral poems are socially aware and stake their status on verbal performances before their peers in a way similar to how I will read the goatherd in Idyll 1. Idyll 5 depicts a singing match in which Comatas and Lacon engage in an amoebean invective exchange which both claims and contests the social capital of both men (Gutzwiller 1991: 134-143). This bucolic agon is an explicit competition in which the men frequently remind each other of their place in society. Before the competition proper begins, Comatas calls Lacon "Sibyrtas' slave" (5.5). Lacon responds by calling Comatas "freeman," but then recalling the impecunity of his former master (5.8-10). Later, Comatas recalls teaching Lacon when he was a child (5.36-37), and again before the contest begins, he reminds the judge that Lacon watches someone else's flock, not his own, a sign of his poverty (5.70-73). These characters clearly vie for superiority while also trying to situate their interlocutor in a lesser social role. The social dynamics of Idyll 1 are not so explicit or as direct as in Idyll 5, but they can still be discerned. 227 Miles 1977: 156: "The effect of Idyll 1 is not to demonstrate the author's conviction about how simple and secure 226 life is or might be, but rather to reveal how alien the two herdsmen's way of looking at things is from ours." Idyll 6 seems to be an exception to this rule of bucolic song exchange. Despite the explicit reference to a contest 227 in the description of Daphnis and Damoetas' song exchange (erisden, 6.5), their contest ends peacefully without a winner or a differentiation of social standing. Some have noted the similarity of the peaceful exchange in Idyll 6 to the usual interpretation of Idyll 1 (e.g. Payne 2007: 97), but I am more cautious of such a position. Since Idyll 6 offers a modification of the bucolic agôn, it seems worthwhile to ask how Idyll 1 might modify the bucolic agôn on its own terms. ! of ! 123 214 The traditional means of determining the social standing of herdsmen in Theocritus relies on the so-called "hierarchy of herdsmen." The hierarchy of herdsmen was for a long time identified as a static ranking of the statuses of different herdsmen within the pastoral genre. 228 Briefly, the hierarchy places cowherd above shepherd and shepherd above goatherd. Theocritus has been sometimes credited with inventing this system, but recent scholarship challenges this (Berman 2005: 229-32). What Berman dismisses, however, is a static hierarchy of herdsmen in Theocritus' poetry, not the potential for herdsmen to vie for social standing. In fact, he notes how the poems may reveal such a hierarchy in the process of coming into existence (Berman 2005: 243). For such a differentiation of standing to emerge, the poems must depict this happening, 229 as in the polemical exchanges of Idyll 5, and in some cases we may expect a character to actively pursue a more prestigious standing, rather than just to denigrate his interlocutor. Idyll 1 features neither an explicit agôn nor such direct evocations of status, and yet there are many hints that an awareness of their social roles underlies the interactions of the two herdsmen in the poem. The tone of this poem is more congratulatory than Idyll 5, and the conflict recedes to the level of subtext. The poem begins with the two herdsmen complimenting each other on their artistic talents. Thyrsis compares the piping of the goatherd with the whispering of the pines and the piping of Pan, while the goatherd compares Thyrsis' singing to the plashing of a stream and calls him second only to the Muses themselves (1.1-11). This exchange, despite its complimentary tone, still evokes both men's artistic status, and their descriptions seem to vie Most fully elaborated by Van Groningen 1958: 313-17. 228 On the use of verbal addresses to articulate this hierarchy, cf. Myers 2016. 229 ! of ! 124 214 with each other in a "competition of compliments" (Hunter 1999: 69). The goatherd later 230 declares Thyrsis' mastery of the bucolic muse more directly (1.20) and this compliment too "evokes an agonistic setting" (Hunter 1999: 8). Thyrsis' song is meant for a competitive context, which the goatherd makes clear when he refers to an earlier performance of the song (1.24). The goatherd's ecphrasis gives him something to compete with. Although the goatherd's ecphrasis 231 of the cup is never explicitly declared as a challenge to Thyrsis, the many correspondences between it and Thyrsis' song suggest that Thyrsis takes it as one (cf. Frangeskou 1996: 29-38). 232 Although I don't seek to refute the general peacefulness of this poem--the basic plot is that of a friendly exchange--the undertones of bucolic competition do raise the question of the role of the goatherd. 233 In essence, my reading of Idyll 1 seeks to answer a question that is rarely asked: why does the goatherd narrate the ecphrasis at all? The common answer is something along the lines of "so that Theocritus can programmatically speak through him" (see below), but one must also Myers also sees an implicit challenge in the characters' use of the formalized titles "goatherd" and "shepherd" to 230 address each other in these lines (2016: 21-22). Calame adopts this position. He admits a shift in the "bucolic rules" away from competition, but leading to a "de 231 facto confrontation between the goatherd's poetic facility for description and the shepherd's narrative abilities" (Calame 2005: 174-76). Others note only the structural parallel between song and cup without considering its relation to the narrative (Lawall 1967: 30; Segal 1981: 31). Edquist notes without comment: "Thyrsis responds to the goatherd's challenge with a song the other knows, admires and has requested" (Edquist 1975: 24). "Thyrsis ... seems to have followed the techniques of bucolic contests, in which the second contestant speaks in 232 parallel, antithetical, or complementary terms to what has been said by the first contestant. The same technique is practiced in the introductory dialogue, though in reverse order" (Frangeskou 1996: 38). Cf. Ott 1969: 132. A similar point has been made by Friedländer although starting from different premises: "Im 'Thyrsis' [i.e. Idyll 1] 233 hingegen hat der Ziegenhirt tätsachlich nur die Aufgabe, den anderen zum V ortrag des Daphnisliedes zu bestimmen, so daß an sich seine Rolle ganz zurücktreten und die Verteilung der Massen durchaus unsymmetrisch werden müßte ... sobald dann der Dichter jene Einleitung vorsetzte, mußte er, um das Gleichgewicht einigermaßen herzustellen, die Rolle des Ziegenhirten über das bloß Notwendige hinaus vergrößern, und diesem Zweck der Ponderierung vor allem dient (so scheint mir) die fragliche Einlage" (Friedländer 1912: 13). Friedländer probably means "role" in a more literary than social sense, but I hope to show that this distinction is itself tenuous. ! of ! 125 214 account for this excursus within the framework of the mimetic narrative of the poem. Just 234 before he begins the ecphrasis he has encouraged Thyrsis to sing his song (1.23-24), but rather than allow him to begin, the goatherd enters into a lengthy description of the cup that he will trade for the song. This description is so long that after it has ended the goatherd must again 235 ask Thyrsis to sing (1.60-63), since his earlier request seems to have been overwritten by his own performative outburst. This repetition draws attention to the question of the goatherd's digression, and I propose an answer: the goatherd performs the ecphrasis as a means of staking a social position in relation to Thyrsis. This way of reading the ecphrasis of the cup puts it in line with the other famous Theocritean ecphrasis of the Adonis tapestries in Idyll 15 (15.78-86). These two ecphrases are 236 usually read in very different ways. The pastoral setting of Idyll 1's ecphrasis has often been taken as reason not to consider the issue of the speaker's social standing. No such consideration has been proposed for Idyll 15. By comparing the different approaches to these two ecphrases, we may come to realize that the approach used for Idyll 15 may also profitably be applied to Idyll 1. To return to Haraway's idea of "situated knowledges," both of these ecphrases might be seen as determined by the "partial perspectives" of their narrators. At the conclusion of a deft reading of the discursive play in the poem, Calame concludes, "neither the spaces 234 inscribed on the cup, which merely constitute a metaphorical prelude, nor a fortiori the space of Daphnis, which is so close to the city and which--through love and death--overturns the values attributed to nature, can represent the implicit 'poetic manifesto' of Theocritus. On the contrary, the voices of the poem situate that manifesto within the universe of bucolic exchange" (2005: 186). This verbal performance takes the place of the piping which Thyrsis has requested and which he refuses on the 235 grounds that the time of day does not permit (1.12-17; cf. Purchase 2003: 94). Similarly, in Virgil's fifth Eclogue, which shows a close affinity with Idyll 1 (cf. Boyle 1976: 116-18), Mopsus, who like Theocritus' goatherd is identified as a piper not a singer (Ec. 5.2), decides to recite poetry rather than to pipe (Ec. 5.13-15). Mopsus' poetic sensibility is more explicitly declared than that of the goatherd from Idyll 1, but to recite an ecphrasis certainly seems to evoke poetry. Although "ecphrasis" has recently been recognized as a modern label (Webb 1999), there seems to be evidence 236 that extended descriptions of art would also be recognized by the ancients as a subgenre of the wider ecphrasis that Webb defines (Elsner 2002: 1-3). ! of ! 126 214 A common way of reading the ecphrasis of Idyll 15 highlights the difference between the voice of the poet and the voices of Praxinoa and Gorgo, who narrate the ecphrasis. The women are "figures framed as other, different from the Hellenistic poet" (Goldhill 1994: 223). As a result, the women's comments about the Adonis tapestries encourage the reader to reflect on the women themselves (Goldhill 1994: 218). Goldhill's argument suggests that the drastically different social standing of Syracusan housewives and the elite male poet (and similarly situated audience) forces us to doubt their role as interpreters of the tapestries. Gorgo and Praxinoa describe the tapestries using (Goldhill 1994: 218): the privileged terms of Hellenistic evaluative discourse--3+8B(, &6*5B(, *+,-'&+(, <#$,6'(, S5%µ+(, H-$,WO(, 'intelligent,' 'fine,' 'subtle,' 'pleasant,' 'true,' 'accurate,' each of which is commonly associated with contemporary poetics and art criticism. The women, in Goldhill's analysis, fail to demonstrate the sophistication necessary to enunciate such poetic terms. In other words, they reveal their lower social standing. But even critics who have countered this claim still see the social standing of the women as significant. Marilyn 237 Skinner equates the women's narration of the ecphrasis with a literary tradition of female authorial vision, thus making their claim to virtuosity equal to the author's, while their difference in gender remains marked (Skinner 2001). Page duBois accepts Goldhill's assessment of the women as other, but suggests that it drives the reader to reevaluate his own perspective, not that of the women (duBois 2007). However we identify these characters and our relation to them, it seems clear that their social standing affects how we read the ecphrasis. The relationship between Burton offers the most sustained defense of the women as sympathetic characters (1995: 56-62, 93-122), 237 although even her own reading acknowledges that the text is open to both favorable and deprecatory interpretations of the women depending on the preconceptions of the audience. In essence, she admits that in order to read the poem, we must first understand "situated knowledges." ! of ! 127 214 their vision and that of the author or audience is significant to the reading of the poem as a whole. This way of reading the ecphrasis of Idyll 15 differs notably from the usual way of reading the ecphrasis of Idyll 1. The goatherd is treated as a mouthpiece for the author or is elided altogether, and the cup is treated as an enunciation of the author himself (Halperin 1983: 163; Cairns 1984: 95-97; Goldhill 1991: 240). According to this interpretation of the poem, the distinctive character of the goatherd does not add color to the ecphrasis or its message. Gutzwiller distinguishes between "analogical readings, which seek to find meanings insinuated by the author and unintended by the character" and "mimetic" readings, which consider the enunciative role of the character and which are much less common (Gutzwiller 1991: 92). With this distinction in mind we can identify the conventional reading of Idyll 1 as analogical. My reading of the cup is mimetic, and focuses on the way the ecphrasis fits within a meaningful motif of vision that pervades the poem. My goal in this section is to suggest that the goatherd's identity is significant to this ecphrasis. He, like Gorgo and Praxinoa, is differentiated from the poet. He demonstrates a particular form of "goatherds' vision" which affects how we read the rest of the poem. In order to show this, I will first adduce the many significant similarities between Idylls 1 and 15 and then compare the way Idyll 15 situates the vision of the housewives with Idyll 1's situation of the vision of the goatherd. In setting out this argument I will attempt to reveal the mimetic details of Idyll 1 that have been glossed over by critics who focus more on the pastoral or bucolic nature of this poem. In doing so, I do not seek to dismiss such a reading of Idyll 1, 238 Such critics often set up Idyll 7 as a model for comparison, e.g. Goldhill 1991: 240-246, whose attention to the 238 "ironic distancing" of the poetic voice seems in accord with his later conclusions about Idyll 15 (see above). Krevans (2006) considers the many similarities between Idylls 1, 7, and 15. ! of ! 128 214 but only to reveal another possible way of reading the poem that has been heretofore unnoticed or disregarded. Comparing the ecphrases in Idylls 1 and 15 reveals a remarkable similarity. Both ecphrases contain metapoetic references to poetic technique. The ecphrasis of the tapestries does this through focus on their woven design. Similarly, the image of the boy weaving a cricket 239 cage on the ecphrasis of the cup evokes poetic composition (cf. Goldhill 1987: 2-5). In the case of Idyll 15, these metapoetic signs are considered ironic because spoken by characters deemed incompatible with the authorial voice. Conversely, the goatherd's ecphrasis is considered programmatic because it is framed by critics as emblematic of the pastoral genre. This difference in the evaluation of the ecphrases, i.e. evaluating the fit of the ecphrasis of the tapestries within the frame of the mimetic narrative, while evaluating the ecphrasis of the cup thematically, shows how scholarship has generally avoided the social standing of the goatherd in discussions of the ecphrasis. Skinner (2001) attempts to redeem the status of the women in Idyll 15 by showing 240 positive thematic parallels for the content of their ecphrasis. Conversely, I will attempt to reposition the evaluation of the goatherd by shifting attention from the thematic content of the ecphrasis to its framing within the narrative. In order to attend to the status of the speakers of the both ecphrases, we need to only recall how important vision is to the genre of ecphrasis. Few would dispute that we "see the cup through the goatherd's eyes" (modified from Miles 1977: 147), but this vision is not detached from other instances of vision in the poem. The overall Goldhill 1994: 216-18; Skinner 2001: 211-216. Weaving is a common metaphor for poetic creation going back to 239 the Homeric poems (Snyder 1981). Halperin goes so far as to try to equate the term aipolic ("of a goatherd") with bucolic (1983: 182-86), but his 240 argument (which follows Van Groningen 1958: 313-17) seems to suffer from circular reasoning (cf. Berman 2005: 238-244). For the importance of distinguishing the different labels for herdsmen, see also Myers 2016. ! of ! 129 214 framework of vision which occupies each poem gives us clues for how to situate (in Haraway's terms) each ecphrasis. To do this, first we must determine whether the goatherd's vision in the ecphrasis of the cup is framed similarly to that of the women in Idyll 15. Since ecphrasis is a strikingly visual mode of representation, other acts of vision in the poem may have some bearing on how we read the ecphrasis. In short, these other acts of vision can help us understand the characters' perspectives and to treat the ecphrasis as "situated knowledge." In Idyll 15, the ecphrasis begins when Gorgo orders Praxinoa to look and describes what she sees: 57 *+,-'&# *$z5+/ @0$23+/, &6*57 -#J a( <#$'6/5# "Look first at the tapestries, how fine and graceful they are" (15.78-79). If we look at the form of Gorgo's statement, rather 241 than its content, we will find that it bears a striking similarity to the other representations of vision in the poem. Gorgo delivers a command to look followed by the qualifying adverb a(. The text is filled with similar commands to look. When they leave the house, both women 242 point out obstacles along the way: "look how fierce [that horse] is" (L>? a( @I$,+(, 15.53), "look, Praxinoa, how great the crowd around the doors is" (0z3#,, r$#Z,/B#, *6$J 57( 0;$#( U33+( Uµ,&+(, 15.65). They also contemplate the baby who seems to precociously understand their 243 conversation: "Look, woman, how he looks at you!" (U$2, I;/#,, a( *+0+$F 5%, 15.12). Syntactically, these phrases resemble Gorgo's pronouncement from the ecphrasis. Each pairs an imperative form of a verb for seeing with a qualifying adverb or adjective that introduces what is seen. This suggests that the women's vision in the poem extends beyond the ecphrasis proper. The command to look (@0$23+/) is directed at Praxinoa within the text, but also may serve as a signal to the 241 reader to contemplate the women's vision. Zanker posits a similar function for imperative forms of L>6 in several ecphrastic epigrams (2004: 112-115). Id. 15.2, 15.12, 15.53, 15.65. Also relevant may be Gorgo's exhortation "let's go ... to look at Adonis" (Wzµ6( ... 242 0#3Bµ6/#, 5./ ´>Q/,/, 15.22-23). Here the qualifying adjective U33+( serves a similar function to the qualifying adverb. 243 ! of ! 130 214 The visual motif in the poem encompasses not just the aesthetic appreciation of the tapestries, but the whole experience of the women regardless of locale. This likeness between the women's vision inside and outside the ecphrasis confirms that it should be considered in light of the women's social lives. This poem emphasizes the art of seeing over simply the seeing of art. 244 A similar although less comprehensive visual frame can be identified in Idyll 1. Outside of the description of the cup, we find goatherds' vision referred to in Thyrsis' song. Thyrsis sings of Priapus visiting Daphnis and admonishing him (1.86-88, 90-91): W+;5#( µ]/ =&4I6%, /C/ >? #)*B&u H/>$J S+,-#(. ¨*B&+( U--? =3+$F 57( µ2-1>#( +v# W#56C/5#,, 51-65#, V80#&µs( U5, +A 5$1I+( #A5.( SI6/5+... -#J 5q >? =*6' -? =3+$F( 57( *#$04/+( +R# I6&z/5,, 51-6#, V80#&µs( U5, +A µ657 5#D3, <+$6;6,(. You were called a cowherd, but now you seem like a goatherd-man. Whenever the goatherd sees the bleating nannies being mounted, his eyes melt because he is not a billy goat... and when you see the maidens laughing, your eyes melt because you are not dancing among them. The common reading of these lines considers the comparison with the goatherd as a means of elaborating on Priapus' characterization of Daphnis "a wretched and helpless lover" (>;36$s(... -#J HµO<#/+(, 1.85). Priapus articulates a claim about the way goatherds see and how this 245 vision is specifically connected to the character of a goatherd, who is chosen as a fitting example to demonstrate these characteristics. It is true that within Thyrsis' song, this comparison reflects on Daphnis, but these lines also probably reflect on the goatherd who is the audience of Thyrsis' song. The present general condition that describes the goatherd (1.87-88) makes a claim about Gorgo's justification for their trip to the palace further connects the ecphrasis and the women's daily lives: j/ 244 L>6(, j/ 6L*#,( -6/ )>+D3# 5q 5_ µ9 )>B/5, "You might talk of the things you have seen, since you have seen them, to one who hasn't seen them" (15.25). e.g. Williams 1969: 122-23; Segal 1981: 33-34; Hunter 1999: 92-93. 245 ! of ! 131 214 something universal (cf. Smyth §2337). This universal claim is attached to a subject identified as "the goatherd" (¨*B&+(). The inclusion of the article suggests that Thyrsis refers either to a particular goatherd or to the class of individuals called goatherds. Only the goatherd of the 246 mimetic frame can be identified as a particular goatherd in the poem, but it seems more likely that Thyrsis is evoking goatherds here as a type. So Priapus makes a claim about goatherds in 247 order to make a claim about Daphnis. Many critics have justly focused on the claim about Daphnis because of its relevance to the narrative of Thyrsis' song, but it seems improper to completely ignore the former claim. The choice of the goatherd as exemplum is significant. 248 249 Equally significant is the choice of Priapus as speaker. Priapus may be appropriate to the scene as a speaker who identifies sexual transgression (Segal 1981: 35), but he also bridges the narrative of Thyrsis' song and the outer narrative of the mime, in which both characters sit before a statue of the god (1.21). By making the god speak in his song, Thyrsis brings something from his performative context into his song. So, the goatherd of the mimetic frame hears a divinity 250 who stands before him make a pronouncement about a class of individuals of which he is a member. Because his response to Thyrsis' song does not dispute this claim, we can assume that he agrees with this statement (Hunter 1999: 92) or that he fails to recognize its significance. cf. Smyth §1119 and 1122. 246 A group of goatherds are said to visit Daphnis (1.80), but none stand out as particular. For the audience of the 247 poem, the article (¨*B&+() may help draw the connection of this passage to the goatherd of the mimetic frame. The strange noun phrase "goatherd-man" may also suggest a general statement about the class of goatherds (LSJ H/O$ VI.1). Cf. Myers 2016: 22. The implication of the claim about goatherds was considered problematic by Gow, who recognized its potential 248 to insult Thyrsis' audience. Gow's solution to this problem shifts responsibility from Thyrsis to Theocritus, whom he thinks has momentarily forgotten that the audience of Thyrsis' song is a goatherd (II 20). Such an authorial slip is not impoosible, but I see no reason to propose one here. Cf. Payne 2001: 281: "Thyrsis’ repetition of aipolos is emphatic; it appears to be a deliberate jest incorporating 249 the goatherd into the song." "The framing context never completely disappears" (Hunter 1999: 92). 250 ! of ! 132 214 The goatherd of the mimetic frame may not respond to Priapus' statement, but he does subtly reinforce it. After Thyrsis has finished his song, the goatherd proffers the payment he promised for the performance. He hands over the cup and calls over the goat to be milked, but the poems ends on an odd note when the goatherd turns away from Thyrsis to threaten a group of she-goats: #E >] <'µ#,$#,, +A µ9 3-,$5#36D56, µ9 n 5$1I+( eµµ,/ H/#35F "you nannies, don't prance around, lest the billy goat rise up for you" (1.151-2). The interjection is strange and seems like an odd end to the poem. As a reader, one is left to ponder these lines, and upon reflection, one might notice that these lines recall Priapus' statement about goatherds. This goatherd also seems interested in the sexual behavior of his flock. There is no direct reference to his vision 251 in these lines, but the sequence of deictic adverbs as the goatherd metes out his payment draws attention to the herdsmen's vision. He shows Thyrsis the cup using the deictic adverb à/'>6, "look" (1.149). He then calls the goat Kissaitha into the scene for milking with the deictic adverb j>6, "here" (1.151). Given the way that vision is carefully directed through deictic adverbs in these lines, it is not hard to imagine that the goatherd's surprising change of addressee is accompanied by a change of visual attention. This attention to "stagecraft" allows us to 252 recognize the goatherd's vision in the final scene, which further strengthens the impression that these lines refer back to Priapus' claim about goatherds. Others have noticed this similarity between the end of the poem and Priapus' admonition to Daphnis. Griffiths likens the goatherd's statement to Priapus' goatherd because both are The sexual undertone here stands out as it does in Priapus' speech (Hunter 1999: 107; cf. the similar, but more 251 explicit lines at 5.41-42). Hunter sees the #E >] of the goatherd's address to the she-goats as a "colloquial survival of the demonstrative 252 force of the article" (1999: 107), so we might find this phrase to have a similar deictic force to the à/'>6 and j>6 of the preceding lines. ! of ! 133 214 attentive to "frisking nannies" (Griffiths 1979: 125). His conclusion--"it is sexual passion that destroys the pastoral hero"--sees these lines as returning to focus on Daphnis rather than the goatherd. But it seems more likely that we should focus on the goatherd in these lines. The 253 goatherd recalls a trait of Daphnis that Priapus described by likening him to a goatherd. Daphnis' characterization remains ambiguous in Thyrsis' song, but these lines can add some clarity to 254 our picture of the goatherd. But what do these lines actually say about him? He discourages the nanny-goats from acting in a way that will get them mounted. This distaste for goat sexuality contrasts sharply with that of Priapus' goatherd. Is he attempting to show that he is not that kind of goatherd? Or perhaps he chastises the goats for fear that if they should be mounted, this would arouse him and reveal his true nature. The precise intent of the goatherd in these lines is ambiguous. Regardless, these lines do recall Priapus' formulation of goatherds' vision and help 255 provide a framework to situate the goatherd's vision in the ecphrasis. The goatherd also provides an explicit explanation of his ecphrasis, but this explanation offers a much different formulation of goatherds' vision than that which Thyrsis and the end of the song provide. After he narrates his ecphrasis of the cup, the goatherd describes the artifact as #)*+&,-./ 012µ# "a goatherds' marvel" (1.56). This phrase has occasionally been interpreted as a major programmatic sign for the poem, (e.g. Halperin 1983, see above), but the base meaning of the Segal (1981: 33-34) and Calame (2005: 184) also note the parallel between the two passages and reach similar 253 conclusions. Cf. Hunter 1999: 63: "The song offers less 'than is actually there,' no matter whether we are to bring to our 254 reading of the song knowledge of a pre-existing Daphnis story ... or whether our very strong feeling of ellipse is purely a product of the poet's 'invention of tradition'" and Hunter 1999: 67: "[lines] 140-1 are intended to be mysterious: the 'hero' dies in a manner unlike that of ordinary 'oxherds,' cf. Segal 1981: 50-53." There is potential for a less ambiguous reading in which the goatherd's gestures and tone indicate that he is the 255 billy-goat they should fear. Such clarity could best be achieved in performance. (cf. Hunter 1999: 114, on the goatherd of Idyll 3's demand for Amaryllis to look: "what should Amaryllis look at? Perhaps we are to recall that satyrs were in an 'almost permanent state of erection' ... and there would thus indeed be a visible sign of the goatherd's distress.") ! of ! 134 214 phrase is "an object for a goatherd to marvel at" (Gow II 13). The specificity of "aipolic" here 256 takes on additional significance when considered denotatively. The cup itself, made from a common material, wood, is comparable with the low status of the speaker who describes it (Berman 2005: 240). The ecphrasis is seen through the goatherd's eyes and expressed in terms that might be sensible only to him (Miles 1977: 147; Gutzwiller 1991: 92; Payne 2001: 265-67). The goatherd's description of the cup as #)*+&,-./ 012µ# allows him to describe the significance of his lengthy performance and to suggest a means of understanding it. But there is an irony here in the pairing of #)*+&,-./ and 012µ# as well. 012µ# is a "wondrous sight," something remarkable for its artistic quality. "ipolic is a lowly status (cf. Berman 2005: 232-38). ph,s combination may seem anomalous to the reader, who is encouraged to try to understand how the speaker means it. I suggest that the goatherd uses the phrase to identify himself, or goatherds in general, as the ideal viewing audience for the cup. This formulation of goatherds' vision claims 257 a particular role for himself with respect to the cup and with respect to Thyrsis, as is made clear in the second half of the line. The full description of the cup reveals that the goatherd considers the cup to have different effects on different audiences: #)*+&,-./ 012µ#M 54$#( -4 5% 0%µ./ H5;Z#, "a goatherds' wonder; the portent would strike fear in your heart" (1.56). 5% here addresses Thyrsis, who has been listening to the ecphrasis (cf. Gutzwiller 1991: 239n42). #)*+&,-./ and 5% offer a 258 Cf. Zanker 2004: 83: "the cup description is offered by the goatherd, not by Theocritus." 256 Or he may use the phrase to take ownership of his performance of the ecphrasis in the same way that Thyrsis will 257 take ownership of his song by pronouncing his sphragis just ten lines later. Cf. Calame on aipolikon thaêma: "the cup actually constitutes the goatherd's poem" (2005: 180). This line is the first which returns to the framing narrative of the mime. tu appears 4 times in the dialogue of first 258 11 lines, and here the word signals a brief return to this diegetic level of the mime (as it does in lines 60-62), before the beginning of Thyrsis' song. ! of ! 135 214 remarkable symmetry in the narrative: a wonder for me (the goatherd), a portent for you. As my translation of the line makes clear, I think the goatherd proposes different responses for himself and Thyrsis. The words used to describe how Thyrsis should react to the cup suggest violence. 54$#( can mean "wonder," like 012µ#, but often carries a more threatening connotation. 259 H5;Z+µ#,, in its more familiar intransitive form, commonly describes being routed in the Iliad. The only other occurrence of the word in this active form (contemporary with Theocritus, perhaps not coincidentally) maintains this implication of aggression (Ap. Rh. Arg. 1.465). Both of these words add a threatening connotation to the goatherd's description of the cup's effect on Thyrsis (cf. Purchase 2003: 97). Although both 54$#( and 012µ# seem to convey the same semantic sense of "a sight that inspires awe" (cf. Hunter 1999: 84-85), the tone of the two words differs strikingly. This difference is often overlooked by those who read the ecphrasis as a programmatic bucolic statement. But even within a bucolic program one could account for this difference as part of the homosocial antagonism demonstrated in the exchanges of Lacon and Comatas in Idyll 5 (see above) or in Simichidas' boasts of poetic superiority in his friendly encounter with Lycidas (7.37-38, 93). The goatherd's cup is not only a payment for Thyrsis' song, but also challenges him to respond, which he does by introducing his differing formulation of goatherds' vision in the voice of Priapus. The motif of vision in Idyll 1 can be seen as delineating two different formulations of goatherds' vision. First, the goatherd attempts to demonstrate his superiority as viewing audience for the cup by performing an ecphrasis and describing its effects on the vision of each character. This is the only occurrence of the word in Theocritus, but the word does appear in the pseudo-Theocritean 259 "Heracles, Lionslayer" (Idyll 25), both times referring to the Nemean lion, which threatens violence against any who see it (Id. 25.168, 214). ! of ! 136 214 The goatherd suggests that his cup, and by extension his ecphrasis of the cup, will overpower Thyrsis. In response, Thyrsis, through the mouth of Priapus, proposes a drastically different position regarding goatherds' vision, which associates it with base sexual desires rather than artistic appreciation. At the end of Thyrsis' song, the goatherd abandons his earlier formulation 260 of vision and recalls that of Thyrsis, if only to deny it. Rather than using vision to claim artistic prestige, the goatherd ends up merely showing that he does not gaze upon his goats with lust. The social standing of the goatherd rests on the unfolding of this quasi-agonistic motif of vision. At first, he claims artistic prestige, but later, he seems to accept the bestial role that Thyrsis assigns him by not refuting it and unknowingly calling attention to the very attribute that Priapus assigns him. Despite the futility of the goatherd's attempt at social mobility, the tension created by the differing delineations of goatherds' vision emphasizes the power of vision as a means of marking social standing. The poem ends, much as it begins, with the goatherd's standing defined according to the words of Thyrsis (cf. 1.1-5), but the benevolent compliments which begin the poem give way to a more denigrated position. Like the goatherd of Idyll 3 and Polyphemus in Idyll 6, the goatherd of Idyll 1 attempts to use vision to achieve a new social role, but his plan fails. 4. Conclusion Each of the poems discussed in this chapter reveals an important relationship between vision and social standing. In Idylls 3 and 6, this social standing is articulated in attempted Daphnis' description of the pipe in Thyrsis' song has also been noticed as an element of the song which responds 260 to the goatherd's ecphrasis and "acknowledges his refusal to play [his pipe]" (Payne 2001: 284-85). Payne does not suggest why Daphnis does this, since as with many other readings of the poem, the parallel between the cup and song is treated as sufficient (see above). But this attention to the goatherd's decision to describe the cup instead of performing on his pipe may serve a similar purpose to the delineation of a bestial goatherds' vision, i.e. to dismiss his artistic ambitions. ! of ! 137 214 heterosexual love relationships, while in Idyll 1 the relationship is the male homosocial bond that appears in the context of bucolic song exchange. In each case, a speaker attempts to situate vision in a way that will allow him to obtain a certain role. Polyphemus and the goatherd of Idyll 3 hope to attain the role of successful lover, while the goatherd of Idyll 1 attempts to attain the role of artistic equal to Thyrsis. Polyphemus and the goatherd of Idyll 1 are alike in showing their incompetence in situating vision. Both poems show these speakers drawing attention to their own vision in ways that frustrate their attempt to achieve their desired social roles. In a more general vein, these three pastoral poems show a nuanced approach to the negotiation of social distinctions. These poems do not simply depict the idle lives of naive rustics, but reveal individuals interested in altering their relations to others and aware of the important role vision plays in such a process. Each of these characters acknowledges the visual frame that governs many social interactions. The failure of each herdsman to attain the new role he desires does not in itself vitiate this conclusion. The poems may reveal a bleak outlook for herdsmen who attempt to claim a new social role, but do not disprove the circumstances which make such an attempt possible. In this, we can see that the bucolic world of these poems is not in itself naive or unaware of the mechanisms of social vision even if the herdsmen themselves demonstrate poor understanding of how to effectively use this system. Nowhere is the power of vision more obvious than in the first scene of the ecphrasis of the cup (Idyll 1.32-38): S/5+306/ >] I%/1, 5, 06c/ >#'>#&µ#, 545%-5#,, H3-257 *4*&u 56 -#J @µ*%-,M *7$ >4 +E @/>$6( -#&./ =06,$1h+/56( Hµ+,W#>J( @&&+06/ @&&+( /6,-6'+%3? =*4633,M 57 >? +A 8$6/.( m*565#, #A5z(M H&&? U-# µ]/ 5X/+/ *+5,>4$-65#, @/>$# I4&#,3#, ! of ! 138 214 @&&+-# >? #ç *+5J 5./ w,*56D /B+/M +≠ >? G*? S$Q5+( >207 -%&+,>,BQ/56( =5s3,# µ+<0'h+/5,. Inside [the cup] a woman is carved, some work of the gods, crafted with a gown and headband. Beside her the men with beautiful locks exchange blows, one after the other with words that do not stick in her mind. But when she looks at this man with a giggle, just then she tosses her mind to the other. They are long swollen-eyed from love and laboring in vain. The woman--or statue (cf. Hunter 1999: 81)--seems to look this way and that, while the men vie for her attention. All three are described in terms that emphasize their appearance: the woman's dress and the men's hair. The exact function that seeing and being seen have in this drama are unclear, but the juxtaposition of the men's swollen eyes with the woman's shifting glance articulates a definite distinction of roles and social standing (cf. Burton 1995: 108). While in Idyll 6 erôs changes the way Galatea sees (6.18) here erôs actually changes the organs of sight themselves. The damage which erôs causes to the eyes of the men make them less able to use their vision and therefore less able to claim social power (like the swollen eyes of Amycus in Idyll 22, see Chapter 1). The damaged state of the men's eyes show them to be under the control of the woman. In this way, I may finally be able to return to what Gutzwiller calls an "analogical" reading of the ecphrasis of the cup (see above). The first scene of the ecphrasis does reveal something universal about the bucolic worlds depicted in Idylls 1, 3, and 6. It shows that vision is not merely perceptive, but also performative. In Theocritus, vision is a social act with social consequences. ! of ! 139 214 CHAPTER 3: The Poetics of Vision: Reading and Experience in Theocritus "We don't just watch things happen. Watching automatically makes the watcher part of the happening." (Alexie 1993: 200). The previous two chapters have surveyed two dimensions of the social function of vision in Theocritus. The first chapter demonstrates how cognitive categories inform perception, while the second chapter shows how individuals deploy their own perception or appearance performatively. This performativity relies on the same relationship between vision and cognitive categories that the first chapter discusses, but this method of social mediation allows an individual to take on an active rather than a passive role in the process. In this chapter, I will move from the study of how vision is represented in the narratives of Theocritus to the study of how it functions in Theocritean poetics. This requires a shift in the definition of viewer and viewed. In previous chapters the acts of vision always occurred within the social world of the narrative, i.e. between characters. The reader was implicitly invited to participate in the evaluation of characters, but the reader's role as viewer in this social drama was less explicitly defined. In this chapter, I will explore how the poetry of Theocritus invites the reader into the text as a viewer. The epigraph to this chapter establishes a similar position for an audience. The quotation comes from a collection of short stories written by Sherman Alexie about life on the Spokane Indian Reservation. One of Alexie's characters explains the experience of watching the dancing at a pow-wow. In that ritualized festival space, the distinction between audience and performance dissolves. Even those who observe become participants in the performance. In Theocritus, the boundary between reader and text does not automatically withdraw, but at times the text explores the dimensions and limitations of the reader's role as viewer. This probing of the ! of ! 140 214 role of the reader will help to better define the relationship between vision and Theocritean poetics. Poetics is a way of reading that is closely attuned to the competency of the reader. This 261 reader must interpret the text and thus becomes aware of the text as a system of literary signs that bear some relation to other literature and to the real world (Culler 1975: 131-152). As Culler notes, "to be an experienced reader of literature is, after all, to have gained a sense of what can be done with literary works and thus to have assimilated a system which is largely interpersonal" (1975: 149). The reader is part of a community with its own norms and expectations. Thus, the reader is not that different from the characters in the poems who try to follow or flout certain norms and expectations. Those who read Alexandrian poetry generally formulate their models of literary competency based on the ability to recognize the vast repertoire of intertextual references which can be recognized in the poems. This aspect of the 262 poems is of obvious importance, and it encourages us to focus on readers with competences which are similar to our own, but there is a danger in studying literary reference apart from the interpersonal dimension of the narrative. To do so risks reproducing the old cliche about the Alexandrian poets: that they are hopeless bookworms huddled away in an ivory tower with no "Poetics is essentially a theory of reading" (Culler 1975:149). Culler has also characterized poetics "as an account 261 of the resources and strategies of literature, [which] is not reducible to an account of rhetorical figures, but [which] could be seen as part of an expanded rhetoric that studies the resources for linguistic acts of all kinds" (1997: 70). Aristotle's Poetics, which is largely concerned with defining and analyzing the different elements of poetry in general and tragedy in particular, seems to do so with a view towards its effect on an audience or reader (cf. Ar. Poet. 1453b, on fear and pity). Halliwell characterizes Aristotle's method as "a system of theoretical premises and reasoning ... about the nature of poetry and the experience which it provides" (Halliwell 1987: 10). e.g. Hunter 1996: 1: "Hellenistic poets appropriated their literary heritage and adapted it to the writing of poetry 262 in a new world." This quotation illustrates the tendency of readings that focus on allusion to center the role of the author in creating that allusion rather than the role of the reader in interpreting it, although cf. Hunter, on Idyll 24: "it is understandably difficult for many modern readers to conceive how such a dazzling literary texture [of allusion, described in the preceding pages] could function other than for the delectation of a learned elite surrounded by the resources of an excellent library" (1996: 13). My own focus on the role of the reader aims to get past the limitations of reading allusion as a sign of virtuosity and provide a clearer index for its other possible effects. ! of ! 141 214 connection to the real world. Several recent scholars have challenged this conception and have 263 shown the surprising social awareness of Alexandrian poetics (e.g. Selden 1998, Stephens 2003, Thalmann 2011). To truly do justice to Alexandrian poetics, we must consider how the interpersonal aspects of Theocritus' poetry are related to its textual and intertextual aspects. I have raised this issue a few times previously (e.g. my reading of Idyll 11 in Chapter 1), but this chapter will study that aspect of the texts more systematically. Culler calls his inquiry into the reader's response to the text "poetics," but a similar concept has been outlined in phenomenological terms by Wolfgang Iser. Like Culler, Iser argues that the meaning of a text is "the product of an interaction between the textual signals and the reader's acts of comprehension" (Iser 1978: 9). This definition of literary meaning places a similar emphasis on the reader as the interpretive agent of a work, but Iser goes further, arguing that (Iser 1978: 9-10): the reader cannot detach himself from such an interaction ... the activity stimulated in him will ... induce him to create the conditions necessary for the effectiveness of that text ... and it therefore follows that meaning is no longer an object to be defined but it is an effect to be experienced. This description of reading requires a reader to actively interact with a text. The focus is not simply on interpretation, but interpretation as experience. It is easiest for the reader to 264 participate in the text when there are "indeterminacies" that provide some opening for the The most famous evidence for this claim comes from the Silloi of Timon of Phlius: *+&&+J µ]/ WB3-+/5#, =/ 263 )I;*5u *+&08;&u / W,W&,#-+J <#$#-D5#, H*6'$,5# >2$,BQ/56( / á+%34Q/ =/ 5#&1$u "many are pastured in populous Egypt, bookish scribblers endlessly quarreling in the birdcage of the Muses" (SH 786). Cameron dispels the reading of the passage as a critique of the ivory tower, noting that it is "pure modern assumption ... it is a farm, not a zoo that Timon has in mind. The point is not the seclusion of these birds as oddities, but their value as delicacies for the table" (1995: 31-32, emphasis in original). Iser is careful not to suggest that the experience of reading a text offers some objective access to the real world of 264 the author. Instead he considers the literary text "not ... a documentary record of something that exists or has existed, but ... a reformulation of an already formulated reality" (Iser 1978: x). ! of ! 142 214 reader's judgement and supplementation of the text (Iser 1972: 284-85; 1978: 24). (I will provide examples of such indeterminacies below.) In this way, the reader enters the world of the text. 265 I provide this explanation of Iser's phenomenology of reading because phenomenology itself frequently takes vision as its prime object of study. Iser's application of phenomenology to the experience of the reader suggests that vision and poetics are already intrinsically connected. The need for the reader to mediate the text recalls one of Merleau-Ponty's insights about vision (Merleau-Ponty 1964: 162): My body simultaneously sees and is seen. That which looks at all things can also look at itself and recognize, in what it sees, the 'other side' of its power of looking. It sees itself seeing ... it is visible and sensitive for itself. It is not a self through transparence, like thought, which only thinks its object by assimilating it, by consulting it, by transforming it into thought. It is a self through confusion, narcissism, through inherence of the one who sees in that which he sees, and through inherence of sensing in the sensed--a self, therefore, that is caught up in things Despite the somewhat oracular style, the message is clear: vision is an act of mediation between a person and the world. This mediation is neither automatic nor unconscious. This passage appears in Merleau-Ponty's "Eye and Mind," a disquisition on painting that considers the many ways that the plastic arts manipulate vision. Merleau-Ponty's see-er, like Iser's reader, both affects and is affected by what he sees. His experience of vision is facilitated by the see-er's awareness that he himself is visible. Similarly, a reader who is made aware of the role of vision in the text and is invited to participate in the visual interactions of the text might become aware of his own visibility. Doing this encourages the reader to empathize with the characters and to contemplate and evaluate the social functions of vision. 266 Payne's "presence of the fictional world" is also described in terms of poetics (2007: 4-6). 265 Merleau-Ponty anticipates this when he declares: "my human gaze... can never come up against previous 266 appearances or those presented to other people otherwise than through the intermediary of time and language" (1962: 69). ! of ! 143 214 The preceding chapters offer some insight into this aspect of the Idylls. The reader's participation in the social drama of vision is implicit in the performative readings of vision that I have presented in Chapter 2, because they require a reader to recognize and evaluate different ways of seeing. For example, in Idyll 1, the differing formulations of goatherds' vision require some mediation by the reader; as I have shown, the end of the poem encourages the reader to adopt Thyrsis' formulation of goatherds' vision over that proposed by the goatherd. The goatherd associates his vision with artistic virtuosity, while Thyrsis makes goatherds' vision a sign of bestial lust. The end of the poem directs the reader's judgement by showing that the goatherd 267 simultaneously alludes to Thysis' formulation and fails to challenge it. This invitation of the 268 reader into the social drama of vision favors Thyrsis' perspective over that of the goatherd, but other examples of poems which invite the reader into the visual scheme of the text are less decisive and seem to encourage a reader to reflect on what it means to be a viewer. Idyll 11 provides two different formulations of Polyphemus' vision which closely parallel two different formulations of Polyphemus' appearance in the reader's visual imagination. Polyphemus sees Galatea according to his own pastoral pre-conceptions (Id. 11.19-21), but he sees his own ugliness more clearly (11.31-33). A reader might contemplate the difference 269 Artistic virtuosity: "a goatherd's wonder; the portent would strike fear in your heart" (#)*+&,-./ 012µ#M 54$#( -4 267 5% 0%µ./ H5;Z#,, 1.56); bestial lust: "Whenever the goatherd sees the bleating nannies being mounted, his eyes melt because he is not a billy goat" (¨*B&+( U--? =3+$F 57( µ2-1>#( +v# W#56C/5#,, / 51-65#, V80#&µs( U5, +A 5$1I+( #A5.( SI6/5+, 1.87-88). Zanker identifies a similar poetic conceit in this poem, but calls it "reader or viewer supplementation" (2004: 83). 268 "The cup description is offered by the goatherd, not by Theocritus... the poet withholds his own judgement" (ibid); this leaves open the possibility for a reader to provide his own judgement. My reading of the poem suggests that the poem is less ambivalent about the reader's judgement than Zanker implies; he focuses on the ecphrasis and does not attempt to place this phenomenon within a complete reading of the poem. See Chapter 1. The relevant texts are 11.31-33: "It's because a shaggy brow stretches over my whole forehead 269 from one ear to the other, one thick line. There's one eye under it, and a wide nose upon my lip." and 11.19-21: "Oh white Galatea, why do you reject the one loving you? You're whiter than quark to look at, softer than a lamb, more skittish than a calf, and glossier than an unripe grape." ! of ! 144 214 between these two modes of seeing, but the same reader can also recognize a parallel with the different ways that he himself has perceived the image of Polyphemus as presented by the poem. Lines 31-33 present the grotesque image of the one-eyed monster, but the framing narrative of the poem also presents a more impressionistic, expurgated image of Polyphemus as a downy- faced shepherd (11.8-9). Comparing these two ways of seeing Polyphemus gives the reader 270 pause to contemplate both Polyphemus' vision and his own perception as reader. Lines 8-9 omit much of the content of Polyphemus' appearance as depicted by lines 31-33, and provide a more selective and positive image. When reading lines 31-33, a reader might draw an analogy between the two perspectives of Polyphemus and the two perspectives the poem has given her of Polyphemus. This analogy is activated by the fact that lines 31-33 both recall the portrait of Polyphemus' face presented to the reader in lines 8-9--a direct image which the reader envisions--and represent Polyphemus' own visual imagination, like his description of Galatea in lines 19-21. While lines 8-9 are presented to the reader through the voice of the author, Polyphemus focalizes the imagery of lines 31-33. Just as the reader might compare the way Polyphemus sees Galatea (11.19-21) and the way he sees himself (31-33), the reader might also compare the image of Polyphemus which she envisions through the words of the poet (8-9) and that which is focalized by Polyphemus himself (31-33). This latter comparison encourages the reader to reflect on the indeterminate nature of her own visual imagination. Idyll 6 features a similar reflection on the viewing experience of Polyphemus. The poem presents two ways of seeing Polyphemus: as ugly or as beautiful. Daphnis makes this distinction clear when he advises Polyphemus to act while Galatea shows signs of being smitten: l I7$ "Ancient Polyphemus, when he was loving Galatea, with a fresh beard around his mouth and temples." 270 ! of ! 145 214 S$Q5, / *+&&1-,(, K r+&;8#µ6, 57 µ9 -#&7 -#&7 *48#/5#, "For often, Polyphemus, the ugly appears beautiful through love" (6.18-19). The implication of these lines is that Polyphemus is ugly, but Galatea misperceives him as beautiful because of erôs. A reader is likely to accept Polyphemus' ugliness because it is canonical (cf. Dover 1971: 143), and because Polyphemus 271 himself accepts this truth in Idyll 11. Polyphemus' response shows that his vision differs from that of Daphnis. He contradicts the expectation set up by the end of Daphnis' song. He finds himself beautiful: -#J -#&7 µ]/ 57 I4/6,#, -#&7 >4 µ6% g µ'# -s$#, / a( *#$? =µJ/ -4-$,5#,, -#568#'/65+ "And my beard and my one eye appeared beautiful, as judged by me" (6.36-37). This line uses a similar verb to that which describes Galatea's perception (*48#/5#,, -#568#'/65+), and we find -#&7 repeated in the same line, although this time through anaphora rather than consecutively. These parallels suggest that these two passages should be read together. But although Daphnis explains the cause of Galatea's misperception, i.e. erôs, we do not have a ready explanation for Polyphemus' perception of himself as beautiful. We might assume that he experiences auto-eroticism, like Narcissus (Zimmerman 1994: 71n54), but the 272 connection between vision and love in this poem differs from that in the Narcissus story. Narcissus sees his reflection and falls in love with it according to the terms of the curse (Ov. Met. 3.402-36). But in this poem, as Daphnis' aphorism makes clear, erôs alters sight, not vice versa. There is no ready cause to account for Polyphemus' possible self-love, and thus, there is no explanation for his evaluation of his appearance. Ovid elaborates on Polyphemus' ugliness by making his body covered with thick bristling hair (rigidis .... 271 densissima saetis / corpora, Ov. Met. 13.846-47). Interestingly, he uses the same comparative adjective (&6%-+54$#/, 6.38) to describe himself that he does of his 272 beloved Galatea in Idyll 11 (11.20). ! of ! 146 214 For a reader there are two options: to seriously consider Polyphemus' vision as accurate or to consider Polyphemus as deluded in some way. Tradition favors the latter. Nowhere in Homer is the Cyclops called beautiful, and his ugliness is made explicit by Polyphemus himself (in Idyll 11) as well as Daphnis (in Idyll 6). But Idyll 6 gives the reader reason to consider her 273 own vision as analogous to that of Polyphemus, and thus to either not dismiss him so quickly or to reflect on the limitations of her own evaluation. He describes his evaluation of his appearance as a judgement (a( *#$? =µJ/ -4-$,5#,, 6.37). The fact that Polyphemus explicitly refers to his judgement of his own appearance may give the reader pause to reflect on her own judgement, but an allusion to Idyll 11 makes the analogy between Polyphemus' perspective and that of the reader even more explicit. The phrase a( *#$? =µJ/ -4-$,5#, "as it seems to me" recalls the similar phrase which identifies Polyphemus in Idyll 11: n *#$? gµD/ "one of us" (11.7). In Idyll 11, this phrase draws a likeness between between the Cyclops Polyphemus and the humans Theocritus and Nicias, i.e. the author and intended audience of the poem (see Chapter 1). In Idyll 6, the phrase is transferred from the mouth of the narrator to the mouth of the Cyclops himself. Polyphemus echoes the earlier poem's analogy between himself and the intended audience of the poem. Any reader of these two poems will already confront different views of Polyphemus' 274 appearance, but a reader who recognizes this affinity between Idyll 6 and Idyll 11 is encouraged to compare herself to Polyphemus, and perhaps even to evaluate her own judgement as she evaluates his. Od. 9 is not very specific about Polyphemus' appearance. Its most detailed description of the Cyclops is 273 Odysseus' claim that he "looks like a mountain" (9.190-92). The poem even avoids explicitly indicating that Polyphemus has only one eye, a fact which Theocritus remedies (Hunter 1999: 233). In this way, the allusion might also further exemplify Polyphemus' solipsistic tendency in Idyll 6, since he takes 274 the reader's role of evaluating him onto himself. ! of ! 147 214 These examples, despite their differences, demonstrate several fundamental aspects of the role vision plays in Theocritean poetics. In each case, the text opens itself to the reader through an indeterminacy of vision. These indeterminacies are not a source of absolute uncertainty however. A reader need not earnestly doubt whether Polyphemus is ugly or not. The text merely provides a reminder to the reader that her reading of the text is also an interpretation of the text. Unsurprisingly, these textual indeterminacies focus on the relationship between vision and cognition. The representations of vision in the text are connected to mental processes: artistic creation and bestial lust in Idyll 1, love (of Galatea) and acceptance (of his ugliness) in Idyll 11, and the unidentified process which motivates Polyphemus' vision in Idyll 6. These mental processes both affect the character's interpretation of what he sees and open him up to interpretation by the reader. Furthermore, these acts of interpretation by the character and the reader rely on signification. For the reader of Idyll 6, vision can only be read through signs. 275 Polyphemus interprets his facial features as signs of his own beauty: his beautiful eye, his beard, and his white teeth. But Daphnis' claim that Galateia perceives Polyphemus as beautiful is also 276 a sign. According to Daphnis, Polyphemus should interpret Galatea's misperception of his ugliness as a signal to act (cf. Hutchinson: 1988: 186). The reality of Polyphemus' ugliness 277 indicates the need for haste, lest Galatea become aware of her misperception. Thus, Daphnis treats Galatea's vision as a sign, and reminds us that vision is not only a means of interpretation The necessity of interpretation for every act of signification was first noted by C.S. Pierce. Cf. Eco 1984: 2-3. 275 According to Daphnis, Galatea's warped perception causes her to interpret Polyphemus as beautiful, although 276 Daphnis does not indicate precisely what aspects of Polyphemus' appearance she interprets as signs of beauty. These lines are sometimes read ironically, i.e. Galatea only feigns interest in Polyphemus (cf. Hunter 1999: 277 252-53). Gutzwiller rejects the ironic reading of these lines on the grounds that it is plausible but not made clear by any sign in the text (1991: 126-27). Her reading of these lines emphasizes the similarity in the way Galatea and Polyphemus see, but does not explore their different experiences. ! of ! 148 214 but can also be an object of interpretation as well. This attention to interpretation, mental processes, and signs will provide an analytic framework as we proceed through the poems discussed in this chapter. Many literary elements, such as allusion, have already been studied in relation to Theocritean poetics, but the semiotic and cognitive dimensions of the text which I will explicate here open up a new approach to Theocritean poetics. 1. Seeing the Lion: Reading and Role Reversal in Idyll 26 Theocritus' "Bacchae" (Idyll 26) retells in condensed form the climax of the messenger speech from Euripides' Bacchae. The main narrative of this poem revolves around vision, in 278 particular the punishment of Pentheus for seeing what he should not. The Idyll is somewhat 279 mysterious, as it is both much shorter and less explicitly linked with the Ptolemaic court than Theocritus' other hymnic poems, i.e. Idylls 15, 17, 22. As a result, there has been a tendency to read the poem in strictly literary terms, e.g. Cusset 1997. As Cairns notes, the poem requires a 280 largely speculative touch in order to produce a reading which acknowledges performative or ritual context (Cairns 1993: 1). But even without attending to its historicized performative or ritual context, we can study the contextual clues which invite the reader to evaluate the poem. For this poem, these contextual clues are largely associated with vision, and they build upon aspects of the story that are similar to its earlier iterations in Greek literature. A reader who is aware of this intertextual relation will be able to detect a significant reformulation of vision in Cf. Cusset: 1997. To prevent confusion, I will use this term only to refer to the title of Euripides' play hereafter. 278 Although the word can also refer to the women celebrating Bacchic rites, I will refer to the women in either text only as maenads or bacchantes. This story of a mortal's punishment for transgressing divine boundaries makes it similar both to Euripides' 279 Bacchae and to the Callimachean Hymns to Demeter and to Athena (Cairns 1993: 3). Cf. Cusset 2001: 25-26. Gow warns that "the purpose of the Idyll is unknown" (II 476). Griffiths (1979) produces 280 a political reading for Id. 26, but this is largely speculative. ! of ! 149 214 this version. Many of the viewing positions are altered, and as a result the reader assumes a new position as viewer as well. The important act of vision in Theocritus' version is not that of Pentheus but that of the maenads. The reader must evaluate their vision against the precedent of earlier texts and in doing so may come to reflect on his own vision. Vision is central to Idyll 26. The plot of the poem can be summarized as follows: Pentheus spies on the maenads (26.10-11); he is seen (26.12); Autonoe hides the artifacts 281 (orgia) that Pentheus is not meant to see (26.13-14); and the women punish Pentheus for this act of vision (26.15-26). This plot is followed by a "moral conclusion" in lines 27-32 (Dover 1971: 264) and a formulaic hymnic ending (33-38). The central action of the poem is Pentheus seeing the maenads and the maenads seeing him and reacting. This reflexive seeing of seeing is our first clue to the poem's examination of vision. This part of the plot is probably a fundamental aspect of most versions of this story, however, so it may not be remarkable in Theocritus' version, but what is remarkable is how Theocritus' version differs from the story as conveyed by Euripides. 282 Euripides' version of the story, like Theocritus', focuses on vision. In Euripides, Pentheus desires to see the women performing their rights: L>+,µ? N/ V$0c( µ#,/1>Q/ #)3<$+%$I'#/ "[after The first nine lines serve primarily to set the scene which Pentheus interrupts (especially lines 7-9) and perhaps 281 also refer to some ritualized numerological aspect of the Dinoysiac cult (cf. Cairns 1993: 5-6). There has been some debate about the precise relationship between Idyll 26 and Euripides Bacchae. Wilamowitz 282 warned that it would impossible to truly understand Theocritus' sources for such a common myth (Wilamowitz 1906: 214). Gow doubted the relationship between the texts (II 476), but the myriad of potential allusions between the texts that have been noted by other scholars place his view in the minority (e.g. van Groningen 1963: 347-48; van der Valk 1965: 93-95; Cusset 1997). McKay sees aspects of the poem as inspired by painting (1967: 17-21), but also accepts that Euripides remains a major influence (22-28). Cairns accepts the influence of the Bacchae on Idyll 26, but also admits the likelihood of a common source in the Dionysiac tradition (Cairns 1993: 5). In comparing the two texts, I accept such a qualification, while also acknowledging that Euripides Bacchae was likely a canonical representation of the Pentheus story by the time Theocritus was writing (cf. McKay 1967: 17). To read Theocritus' poem as alluding to a tradition which is exemplified by Euripides rather than as alluding directly to Euripides himself actually strengthens our definition of the word "intertext." This word was coined by Kristeva not to indicate mere allusion, but to describe the relationship between an individual text and the system of other texts, or in Culler's terms other "discursive practices" (1997: 121), which make that text legible. For a summary of Kristeva's concept of intertext and its relevance to Alexandrian poetics, cf. Van Erp Taalman Kip 1994: 153-58. ! of ! 150 214 climbing the fir tree], I might see rightly the shameful behavior of the maenads" (Eur. Bacch. 1062). Theocritus does not mention Pentheus' intention and his viewing is described in such abbreviated and general terms that at first it may seem unremarkable. Pentheus "saw everything" (*1/5? =06s$6,, 26.10). On the one hand, the neuter plural form of *1/5# may suggest that Pentheus is explicitly looking at "all of the things," i.e. the ritual objects which Autonoe conceals in haste. On the other hand, *1/5# might also simply describe an entire 283 scene which he sees. I make this distinction because if we read it in the first way, then the Idyll 284 might be read as varying the story from Euripides, in which Pentheus desires to see the rites of the women and not just their ritual objects. Although *1/5# is difficult to interpret, the verb 285 suggests that we choose the latter interpretation for this line. 06Q$6D/ means to watch a scene. 286 In particular, it describes the vision of a participant at a religious festival (Nightingale 2004: 54-59). 06Q$'# is also what Pentheus seeks to do in Euripides' Bacchae: Z4/+( 0? ¢( yµD/ 287 cf. 26.7-8: E6$7 >? =- -'35#( *+*+/#µ4/# <6$3J/ Y&+D3#, / 6A81µQ( -#5406/5+ /6+>$4*5Q/ =*J WQµc/ "taking 283 from the chests the holy things that had been fashioned by the hands, they set them down reverently on altars of fresh-plucked leaves;" and 26.1-14: A5+/B# *$15# /,/ H/4-$#I6 >6,/./ )>+D3#, / 3q/ >? =51$#Z6 *+3J/ µ#/,s>6+( b$I,# ê1-<Q, / =Z#*'/#( =*,+D3#, 57 >? +A< n$4+/5, W4W2&+, "Autonoe saw him first and shouted terribly, and starting up suddenly, she scattered with her feet the holy objects of madness-bringing Bacchus, which the uninitiated do not see." Cf. Cusset on orgia (26.13): "au sens large les 'mystères' de Dionysos" (1997: 466). 284 McKay emphasizes precisely this difference between Theocritus and Euripides in his attempt to prove Theocritus' 285 reliance on a painting of the scene (1967: 17-21). If we accept the first option, then *1/5# refers back to the "holy objects" (E6$7) mentioned at the beginning of 286 line 7. If we take *1/5# as referring to the whole scene, then it refers back to the action described in the previous 3 lines. Elsewhere in Theocritus, *1/5#, when substantive and unaccompanied by an article, generally refers to a collectivity, e.g. *1/5# @/#&&# I4/+,5+ "let everything be inverted" (1.134), å$,# *1/5# I4/+,5+ "may everything be timely" (7.62), gI6D5+ >] *1/5# *1$6$I# "he considered everything [else] beside the point" (11.11), =/ V&W'Q b&W,# *1/5# " everything is rich in a rich man's house" (15.24). The last example may seem to refer to "all of the things," but the line preceding explicitly indicates that they are discussing the Queen's organization of the Adonis festival as a whole: <$Xµ# -#&B/ 5, (15.23), translated by Gow as "a fine show." Gow also translates *1/5? =06s$6, as "Pentheus watched all they did" (Gow I 215). Nightingale's discussion of this term is more detailed than mine and shows how the contours of this term made it 287 a fitting metaphor for the development of philosophy in the fourth-century BCE. My interest in this term is limited to its shared meaning in both Euripides and Theocritus. ! of ! 151 214 *+µ*.( l/ 06Q$'#( "the stranger was our guide for the sightseeing" (Eur. Bacch. 1047). The 288 verb =06s$6, in Theocritus hints at the same purpose in Idyll 26. Pentheus the sightseer appears in both Euripides and Theocritus, but the abbreviated description of his vision and the lack of attention to his intention in the latter make his vision of secondary importance. In Theocritus, the maenads' vision is more important. Their reaction to the discovery of Pentheus differs from their reaction in Euripides, and this difference calls attention to their vision. In Theocritus, Autonoe sees Pentheus, reacts to his transgression, arouses the maenads to punish him, and even addresses him before he is punished. This sequence of actions suggests a 289 rational response to the observation that Pentheus has seen what he shouldn't see. The text tells us that "Autonoe saw him first" (A5+/B# *$15# /,/ ... )>+C3#, 26.12). The precedence of her perception implies that thereafter all of the other maenads see him too. This correlation between Agave and the other maenads is made more explicit in the description of their reaction to this sight: µ#'/65+ µ4/ 5? #A51, µ#'/+/5+ >? @$?6A0q -#J m&&#, "frenzied was she herself and frenzied then straightaway were the others also" (26.15). Frenzy (or mania) usually implies a lack of rationality and imprecision of perception, but Autonoe's short dialogue with Pentheus reveals her as surprisingly rational (26.18-19): r6/06q( µ]/ 5B>? S6,*6M ‘5'/+( -4<$2306 I%/#D-6(;’ A5+/B# 5B>? S6,*6M ‘51<# I/s3P *$J/ H-+C3#,.’ Pentheus said this: "what do you women want?" The word *+µ*.( suggests the sightseeing of a religious pilgrim. 288 Critics have been unable to explain why Autonoe takes the lead in this text instead of Agave (cf. Gow II 478 and 289 McKay 1967: 17). One potential reason is a reluctance on the part of the poet to represent a mother authorizing the killing of her child (cf. van der Valk 1965: 94). This would have perhaps been too risque for the sometimes parricidal Ptolemaic court. On the other hand, "the postponement of Agave's participation until line 20 may be conceived as concentrating her role into one terrible act" (McKay 1967: 19). For the openness of Agave's action in line 20 to reader interpretation, see below. ! of ! 152 214 Autonoe said this: "you'll know it faster than you hear it." This exchange frames the punishment of Pentheus as a want or need of the women. Although they are described as "frenzied," Autonoe acts consciously, not under a divine compulsion. 290 Such a divine compulsion does appear in Euripides' version, in which Pentheus addresses his mother and identifies himself (1115-21), but Agave does not reply and shows no sign of having heard or recognized her son (Eur. Bacch. 1122-24): ñ >? H8$./ =Z,6D3# -#J >,#35$B8+%( -B$#( Y&'33+%3?, +A 8$+/+C3? Æ <$9 8$+/6D/, =- ê#-<'+% -#56'<65?, +A>? S*6,04 /,/. She spit out foam and spun her twisted eyes. She didn't understand what she should understand. She was possessed by Bacchus, and he [Pentheus] did not persuade her. The foaming mouth and twisted eyes are common signs of tragic madness, and the text makes 291 explicit that she does not think and is possessed by Bacchus. Agave's perception is not 292 objective, but dependent on her mental state. Pentheus has shed his disguise in hopes of being recognized (1115-1117), but she perceives neither Pentheus' words nor his appearance because the divine madness prevents her. In comparison, the leader of the maenads in Theocritus' account Cf. Griffiths 1979: 99-100: "The women react with frenzy when Pentheus disturbs their secret rites, but they do 290 not seem to have been possessed by the god to the point of hallucination... The women, for their part, do not mistake him for a sacrificial animal, as they do in Euripides' Bacchae." Also cf. van der Valk 1965: 94-95. Padel 1992: 60, 136; for the independence of these symptoms from the medical tradition, cf. Holmes 2010: 291 235-38. The differing cognitive states that inform the punishment in either poem gain contrast given the striking 292 similarities between actual act of punishment itself in either text. In Theocritus, Agave grabs Pentheus' head and roars like a lioness (26.20-21). This act begins the sparagmos in Theocritus, but likely alludes to the conclusion of the sparagmos as depicted by Euripides, in which Agave parades the severed head of Pentheus on a pike, thinking it is that of a lion (1139-42, cf. Dover 1971: 264). In Theocritus Ino places a foot on Pentheus' torso and tears his arm out from the shoulder and Autonoe removes the other, while in Euripides Agave and Ino perform this part of the sparagmos (Id. 26.22-23; cf. Bacch. 1125-1130; cf. Dover 1971: 264). Both accounts offer a distinct focus on the articulation and disarticulation of Pentheus' body. This striking resemblance to Euripides' representation of the punishment of Pentheus serves as a foreground against which the drastically different experiences of the maenads can be noted. ! of ! 153 214 is capable of recognizing Pentheus as human and replying to his question with a reasoned, albeit chilling, response. Autonoe's reply to Pentheus suggests a rational decision to punish him, which is emphasized by the way she frames this reply. Autonoe draws a contrast between hearing (H-+C3#,) and understanding (I/s3P). It is hard to imagine one whose actions are under the influence of divine inspiration making such a deliberate analytical distinction between perception and cognition. The text of Euripides provides an explicit contrast for this as well. Although 293 Agave does not recognize Pentheus or respond to his pleas, she does address the maenads before they pounce on him. She warns her fellow bacchantes that they must kill the "climbing beast" (5./ HµW152/ 0X$?) in order to prevent it from "reporting on their secret choruses" (1107-1109). Agave's identification of her son using the awkward phrase "climbing beast" may have several meanings in the play--e.g. as part of the hunting theme (cf. Segal 1982: 32-33)--but I wish to emphasize only one point. If the figure in the tree is a beast, Agave need not fear it divulging their rites, since beasts do not have the ability to understand or produce human speech. Agave's reasoning is clouded by the mania of the god (Leinieks 1996: 82), and 294 she does not make a reasonable distinction between the need for punishment and the perceptual and communicative capacity of the one who is punished. This difference between Theocritus and I follow the conclusion of Effe (1978: 72): "der knappe Wortwechsel zwischen ihm und Autonoe hat 293 offensichtlich die Function, erkennen zu lassen, daß die Frauen bei aller Raserei doch durchaus noch ihrer Sinne mächtig sind - im Gegensatz zu Euripides, wo Pentheus auf seine um Hilfe flehenden Worte keine Antwort erhält, da die Mutter ihn in vollem Wahnsinn für ein wildes Tier hält." In the following several paragraphs, I seek to more fully and empirically demonstrate the same conclusion. Dodds notices this contradiction but asserts that Agave considers "the climbing beast" as a human in the second 294 half of her statement (Dodds 1960: 216). Such cognitive dissonance is at home in Dodds' psychological reading of the passage, but resolves the contradiction too quickly and neatly. The problem of the climbing beast reporting what it has seen might strike an audience as more significant in a play that explores and questions the boundary between human and non-human. ! of ! 154 214 Euripides' versions of the story requires different interpretations of the maenads' vision and cognition. 295 Euripides emphasizes the power of the god, while Theocritus emphasizes the role of human perception and behavior in enforcing religious strictures. In Theocritus, Autonoe consciously decides to punish Pentheus after she sees him. In Euripides, the women see Pentheus but do not take any action until they are commanded to act by the god. Dionysus orders the women to punish Pentheus (1079-1081), but they do not hear the order (1086-87), and they glance around unsure of what to do (S3523#/ V$0#J -#J >,O/6I-#/ -B$#(, 1087). Only after Dionysus has commanded them a second time do they spring to action (1088-1093). The god is not as actively involved in the Idyll. Instead, he is said only to have taught the women his rites. 296 As didaskalos, Dionysus does not assume the all-powerful role that he does in the Bacchae, but only provides the women with training that prepares them to act under their own power. The 297 diligence with which they perform these preparations is matched by the diligence with which they punish Pentheus' non-sanctioned perception of their rites. Autonoe's perception of Pentheus and her recognition that he has seen what he should not drive his punishment. Unlike the perception of the maenads in Euripides, this is a rational, self-controlled action. Although the motivation for the behavior of the bacchantes differs in the texts of Theocritus and Euripides, Theocritus closely follows the pattern of the end of the messenger Critical readings of vision in Euripides tend to focus on the vision of Pentheus, especially framed in modern 295 psychological terms (Segal 1982: 229-231; Seaford 1987; Barrett 1998; Thumiger 2013: 33-38). In response to the psychologizing tendency of modern scholarship, see Gregory 1985. Carey (2016) considers the effect that the spectacle (in the Aristotelian sense) would have on the audience of the play. Segal (1982: 231-32) briefly discusses Agave's vision. cf. Id. 26.9: a( =>'>#Z?, a( #A5.( =0%µ1$6, ^,B/%3+( "So Dionysus taught them, as he himself was pleased." 296 Griffiths contrasts this teaching with the more ostentatious display of miracles in Euripides (1979: 99). 297 ! of ! 155 214 speech. Lines 17-32 of the Idyll copy the structure of lines 1117-1152 of the Bacchae. In both poems, these sections contain: an (attempted) conversation between Pentheus and the leader of the maenads, a vivid itinerary of his dismemberment, and a moralizing coda by the narrator. 298 The coda of Euripides' messenger speech reflects on the impiety of Pentheus (1150-52): 5. 3Q8$+/6D/ >] -#J 34W6,/ 57 5c/ 06c/ -1&&,35+/M +Rµ#, >? #A5. -#J 3+8s5#5+/ 0/25+D3,/ 6R/#, -5Xµ# 5+D3, <$Qµ4/+,(. Prudence and respect for the rites of the gods are the most noble thing. I think this is the wisest asset for mortals who use it. These lines serve as a sort of moralizing eulogy for Pentheus and highlight his hamartia. He did not demonstrate the qualities of sôphrosunê or eusebeia, and thus was punished for this mistake (Dodds 1960: 219; Seaford 1996: 240). Theocritus' coda, on the other hand, places its 299 judgement of Pentheus in service to a justification of the maenads' actions (Id. 26.27-32): +A- H&4IQM µ2>? @&&+( H*6<0+µ4/Q ^,+/;3u 8$+/5'h+,, µ2>? 6) <#&6*s56$# 5c/>6 µ+I23#,, 6L2 >? =//#659( ä -#J >6-15Q =*,W#'/+,M #A5.( >? 6A#I4+,µ, -#J 6A#I4633,/ m>+,µ,. =- ^,.( #)I,B<Q 5,µ7/ S<6, #)65.( +t5Q(. 6A36W4Q/ *#'>633, 57 &s,#, >%336W4Q/ >? +e. I don't care. Nor let anyone else worry about one hated by Dionysus, not if he should suffer harsher things than these and might be nine years or beginning his tenth. May I myself be pure and please the pure. Thus the eagle has honor from aegis-bearing Zeus. Better things come to the children of the pious, not the impious. This passage dismisses interest in Pentheus' fate and classes him simply as an "enemy of Dionysus." The hatred of Dionysus rationalizes Pentheus' punishment and the comparison with a Cf. Dover's point-by-point comparison (1971: 263-64). 298 This moral is expressed by the messenger and thus does not represent the moral of the play itself. For the 299 distinction between Theocritus' first-person narrator and the embedded narrator of Pentheus' death in Euripides, see below. ! of ! 156 214 more gruesome punishment, which would also be justified, makes the action of the maenads seem less severe. The rest of the moral focuses on "behaving rightly" (euageia) and the 300 distinction between eusebeia and dussebeia. Such terms would seem to contrast the rightness of the maenads' action with the wrongness of Pentheus. On the other hand, the reference to the 301 fates of children in the final line and the framing of those fates as determined by the piety of the parents strikes a macabre note given that Pentheus, Agave's child, dies for his impiety. This line may recall the fact that Pentheus is ultimately killed as a punishment for the transgressions of his mother and aunts (cf. Eur. Bacch 26-33). The final line of the passage returns us to the guilt of 302 the maenads, a concern which was already raised by their cognizance of their actions. In 303 Euripides, the punishment of Agave--her recognition and remorse for what she has done--follows the dismemberment of Pentheus. Theocritus' poem avoids direct reference to this topic, but introduces it indirectly by alluding to another famous act of vision from Euripides' play. For a summary of the problems with line 29 and potential solutions, cf. McKay 1967: 22-24. 300 Cf. van der Valk 1965: 90. Such justification of the women's action is obviously indirect, but Cairns suggests that 301 the text avoids a more direct exculpation because this was part of the Dionysiac mystery cult (1993: 20). Their punishment has already been indirectly alluded to in lines 25-26. McKay notes that these lines "[epitomize] 302 the future development of the plot, the maenads' return to sanity--and horror. Theokritos turns his back on the detail of the action to come, but *4/02µ# shows that he does not close our eyes to it" (1967: 18). The question of their guilt also is raised in the final lines of the poem, addressed directly to the maenads 303 (26.36-38): i#>µ6D#, *+&&#D( µ6µ6&2µ4/#, y$Q'/#,(, #≠ 5B>6 S$I+/ S$6Z#/ V$'/#/5+( ^,+/;3Q +A- =*,µQµ#5B/. µ2>6J( 57 06c/ V/B3#,5+. Cadmean women cared about by many heroines, who did this blameless deed because Dionysus incited them. Let no one find fault with the acts of gods. The final line in particular, with its enjambed description of the deed as "blameless" and the admonition not to blame these acts, emphasizes that their actions are under moral scrutiny rather than the actions of Pentheus, even if it frames these actions as divinely sanctioned (57 06c/; cf. 26.9). ! of ! 157 214 In Euripides, following the dismemberment of Pentheus, Agave recieves her own punishment from the god. She revels in her destruction of what she thinks is a mountain lion, 304 but is forced to face a harsh reality when she finally begins to see clearly (Bacch. 1277-85): i1>. 5'/+( *$B3Q*+/ >X5? =/ HI-1&#,( S<6,(; "I. &4+/5+(, ©( I? S8#3-+/ #E 02$sµ6/#,. i1>. 3-4T#, /%/ V$0c(M W$#<q( n µB<0+( 6)3,>6D/. "I. S#, 5' &6;33Q; 5' 84$+µ#, 5B>? =/ <6$+D/; i1>. @0$23+/ #A5. -#J 3#84356$+/ µ106. "I. n$c µ4I,35+/ @&I+( y 51&#,/? =Is. i1>. µc/ 3+, &4+/5, 8#'/65#, *$+36,-4/#,; "I. +e-, H&&7 r6/04Q( y 51&#,/? S<Q -1$#. i1>. ØµQIµ4/+/ I6 *$B306/ ä 3] I/Q$'3#,. Ca.: Whose face then do you hold in your arms? Ag.: A lion's. That's what the hunters said. Ca.: Look directly now. It's a brief labor to look. Ag.: Ah! What do I see? What is this thing I carry in my hands?! Ca.: Examine that and learn more clearly. Ag.: I see the greatest pain, oh wretched me! Ca.: It doesn't seem like a lion to you? Ag.: No, but wretched, I hold the head of Pentheus. Ca.: Mourned before you recognized him. The six references to Agave's vision in this passage make its theme clear. Agave finally sees cognizantly, and when she does she distinguishes her son from the lion. These lines thematize the difference between "truth and illusion" and show Agave learning to "[distinguish] between 'being' and 'likeness'" (Segal 1982: 236). This passage is evoked by the Idyll's famous lion simile (26.20-21): µ152$ µ]/ -68#&7/ µ%-O3#5+ *#,>.( Y&+D3#, U33+/ *6$ 5+-1>+( 56&406, µ;-2µ# &6#'/#(: Cf. Bacch. 1141-42: *OZ#3? =*? @-$+/ 0;$3+/ a( V$6354$+% / 84$6, &4+/5+( >,7 i,0#,$c/+( µ43+% "After fixing 304 [his head] on the end of her thyrsus, she carried it through the middle of Kithairon as if it were a mountain lion;" and Bacch. 1195-96: µ#54$? =*#,/4365#,, / &#W+C3#/ @I$#/ 51/>6 &6+/5+8%X "He will praise his mother, who caught this lion-born prey;" and Bacch. 1214-1215: a( *#33#&6;3P -$z5# 5$,I&;8+,( 5B>6 / &4+/5+( ¢/ *1$6,µ, 02$13#3? =Is "...so that [Pentheus] can nail to the triglyphs this head of the lion that I hunted and came here." ! of ! 158 214 The mother grabbed the head of her son and roared as loud even as the roar of a lioness with a litter. The linking of cognizantly seeing maenads, Agave holding Pentheus' head, and the imagined appearance of a lion all echo the passage from the Bacchae above. Even more conclusive is 305 the fact that in those lines Cadmus makes the same point that Autonoe makes just before the Theocritean simile (26.18-19, see above). Both Autonoe and Cadmus refuse to say explicitly what they know, and rely on their interlocutor to recognize what will or has happened (I/s3P, Id. 26.19; I/Q$'3#,, Bacch. 1285). This allusion may also explain the strange quasi- 306 stichomythic exchange between Pentheus and Autonoe, since the recognition in the Bacchae occurs in a stichomythia. Closer attention to this allusion may also help to alleviate the lack of 307 scholarly consensus about these lines. The irony of Agave roaring like a protective lion-mother 308 is obvious, but we can also relate this reversal more explicitly to perception. The simile of Agave as lion inverts the structure of Euripides, in which Agave sees Pentheus as a lion. Rather than seeing the lion, Agave becomes the lion and the simile invites the reader to perceive her as like a Cusset notes that the dismemberment of Pentheus, despite its similarities with the scene from the Bacchae, differs 305 in several ways, most notably in Agave's action. He concludes: "les modifications introduites par le poète alexandrin sont peut-etre dues à l'influence de la suite de la tragédie lorsqu'Agavé vient à la rencontre de Cadmos en lui présentant la tête de son fils [vers 1234-1284]" (1997: 467) The emphasis on hearing what will or has happened may account for the simile's use of the lion's roar as the 306 vehicle of the comparison. In this case, then, Pentheus may be the primary focalizer of the simile, and the reader perceives it through his perspective. His immediate death, however, leaves the reader as the only one by whom reflection can be accomplished. Gow calls the repetition of 5B>? S6,*6 in lines 18-19 "feeble" (II 479). Cairns rehabilitates the repeated 307 interlocutory markers by noting their "ritual feel" (1993: 7). Their potential to recall the stichomythia of the Bacchae may also make them more artful than Gow considered. McKay indicates that the representation of the murderous mother as protective lion carries pathos, but leaves the 308 precise character of this pathos undefined (1967: 18-19). van der Valk, who sees the roaring as a way of displacing the violence of the scene, suggests that the allusion is accidental and merely "an error in taste" (1965: 94n34). Effe sees the contrast of Agave's violence with that of a lion as a means of stigmatizing her behavior, and he reads the exculpation of the maenads in the poem's conclusion as ironic (1978: 72-74). Cairns' suggests that the simile marks Agave as delusional, but he grants the woman immunity from judgement on religious grounds (1993: 9). ! of ! 159 214 lion. Moreover, this transformation of Agave into an object of perception can be paralleled 309 with the image in the Bacchae of Agave's eyes rolling and mouth foaming. Theocritus' image of Agave as lion (Id. 26.20-21) appears at the corresponding point in the narrative as the image of the symptoms of Agave's madness (Bacch. 1122-1124), i.e. after Pentheus' attempt to address the leader of the maenads (Bacch. 1115-1121, Id. 26.18-19) and before the dismemberment of his body (Bacch. 1125-1131, Id. 26.22-26). The image of Agave's madness and the image of her as a lion are interchanged. While the former identifies her state of mind, the latter encourages the 310 reader to reflect on his own state of mind. This reading of Idyll 26 has demonstrated how the poem's engagement with a literary model creates a careful interplay of viewers. Pentheus' vision, which plays a major role in the voyeuristic theme of Euripides' play, is de-emphasized and the vision of the Bacchae is made central. The allusion to Pentheus' dismemberment by frenzied maenads serves to highlight the cool, rational response of Autonoe, the leader of the Theocritean maenads. Within this context, the passionate roar of Agave stands out. The transformation of Agave into a lion by means of a simile inverts the arrangement of vision in the play, in which Agave sees Pentheus as a lion. With Agave positioned as lion, who assumes her role in perceiving the lion? I suggest that this inversion of the Idyll's model invites the reader to assume the position of Agave and to question Griffiths notices this implication of the lion simile but reads it in terms of the poet's creation of the lion simile 309 rather than the reader's reception of the lion simile: "the women ... do not mistake him for a sacrificial animal, as they do in Euripides' Bacchae. It is instead the singer himself who draws that analogy in a simile" (1979: 100). I have called the simile of the lion an "image" but strictly speaking, this is not so. The simile actually compares 310 the sound of Agave (µ%-O3#5+) with the sound of a lion (µ;-2µ#). The details of the simile, however, contribute to its pictoral quality. The lion is described as having a litter (5+-1>+(), which the reader must visualize as spatially near the mother in order to serve as the cause of her protectiveness. This spatial relationship is mirrored by Agave's grasp of Pentheus' head. Cusset refers to the simile as an "image," but sees it as explicating a subtextual representation of Agave as lion within the text of Euripides (1997: 460-62). It may be worthy of note that the text of Homer, which regularly uses lion similes, never shows a lion roaring (Edwards 1991: 36n43). ! of ! 160 214 his assumptions about what he sees, i.e. what he reads. Thus, we find the poem not only represents vision, but also designates the position of the reader as viewer and provides a means for the reader to reflect on his position as viewer. Vision becomes implicated in what one scholar has called the "literary texture" of the poem (Hunter 1996: 28). In other words, the complex 311 interplay of allusions manages a series of viewing positions within the text, including a viewing position which draws the reader into the text by analogy with Agave. This analogy is possible because of the reader's familiarity with Euripides, but such a reader will also recognize that in the Idyll, unlike the play, Agave never reaches the point of understanding what she has done. In fact, the reader faces a similar dilemma. We never find out what happens after Agave grabs her son's head. Does she tear it off? Has she actually run to her son's defense as the simile's vehicle of a defensive lion-mother suggests? Does she hold his head in sympathetic mourning as Thetis does for Achilles (Il. 18.70-72)? All the poem makes 312 certain is that she grabs Pentheus' head and roars. If the reader occupies the perspective of Agave, that perspective precedes any tragic anagnôrisis. This may be the point of this indeterminacy in the text: to make the reader aware of his apôria as he reads the text. Cusset has demonstrated how Theocritus identifies himself as a "reader of Euripides" in this poem (1997), but in the lion simile, the reader confronts the fact that she is "reading Theocritus reading Euripides." This embeddedness of the act of reading within a text is precisely what makes this Another more fundamental difference between Euripides and Theocritus may support this reading. In Euripides, 311 the death of Pentheus is narrated second-hand by a messenger whose immediate audience is composed of the characters within the play. The Idyll is narrated by a first-person speaker (cf. 26.27, 30). This difference in point of view suggests that the the audience of Idyll 26 should already consider themselves as analogous to characters within the play. 5_ >] W#$q 356/1<+/5, *#$'35#5+ *B5/,# µO52$, / VZq >] -Q-;3#3# -1$2 &1W6 *#,>.( Y+D+, / -#' w? 312 V&+8%$+µ4/2 S*6# *56$B6/5# *$+32;># "The queenly mother stood beside him groaning deeply. Wailing sharply she took the head of her son and lamenting spoke winged words." ! of ! 161 214 poem so hard to contextualize. If the "experience of bacchism" is defined as "becoming possessed by something outside [oneself]" (Carey 2016: 78), this text possesses the reader in the act of reading. 2. Allusion and Illusions: Turning Vision Inside-Out in Idyll 7 All of the poems I have discussed so far do something positive with vision. By this I mean that they depict vision as a means to obtain knowledge about the world and determine relationships other people, even when they show characters failing to use it successfully, e.g. the goatherd in Idyll 3 who never succeeds in exchanging gazes with Amaryllis. Idyll 7 does something different from all of the poems that I have discussed so far. This poem still draws a reader's attention to vision: the poem begins with an unseen landmark ("the tomb of Brasilas was not yet visible to us," 7.11), and the identification of Lycidas is framed in terms of vision ("he was a goatherd. No one would fail to recognize him if they saw him, since he looked just like a goatherd," 7.13-14). The poem encourages the reader to think about how things are seen. But rather than offering a message about vision itself, this poem questions vision's ability to provide knowledge and frequently emphasizes the absence of vision. The first quotation above is a good example of this, but the most significant absence of vision in the poem is the complete avoidance of visual description in the lush sensual landscape of the locus amoenus (7.131-146). This poem problematizes vision, and in particular it suggests that vision is not a sufficient means for producing correct interpretations. As the poem progresses, vision repeatedly fails to interpret signs which are much clearer to the other senses. This is a problem for the reader who is repeatedly reminded of vision's primacy only to be shown its failure. The result of this contradiction is a critique of the "naive" impression that vision offers an unambiguous access to ! of ! 162 214 reality. This effect is achieved not only through depictions of vision, but also through imagery that frustrates the reader's attempt to visualize said imagery. My reading of Idyll 7 focuses on the way the reader experiences the text. That experience is determined in part by a reader's expectations, which in turn can be determined by literary precedent. Previous scholars have frequently read the poem according to a single literary precedent. The most common precedent is that of the Homeric encounter scene (cf. Hunter 313 1999: 147), but as Arnott notes: "Theocritus has largely demythologized the model, while deliberately inserting into his narrative a series of usually ambiguous pointers to divine elements in the earlier tradition" (Arnott 1984: 343). In their new context, many of these allusions fail to 314 clearly direct the reader's interpretation of the text. Idyll 7 makes use of a variety of material from earlier sources. To select and elevate one of these models beyond the rest as a controlling precedent for the poem as a whole serves mainly to make task of the literary critic easier rather than to accurately reflect the experience of the reader. As Hunter has noted, this poem makes use of "the full range of archaic and contemporary poetry. This extraordinary fullness of literary reference ... turns the poem into a kind of echoing chamber of poetic allusion" (1996: 22-23). 315 Despite this fullness and our good fortune to have enough of his models extant to recognize them, a complete inventory of the allusions in the poem is impossible and thus a reading which Ott identifies two contrasting precedents: the encounter between Odysseus and Eumaeus and the philosophical 313 journey of Plato's Phaedrus (1969: 138-141). The narrative of poetic initiation has been a major part of most readings of the poem which identify Lycidas as a 314 god. Giangrande (1968: 515-31) criticizes and rebuts Puelma (1960), who wrote the seminal interpretation of Idyll 7 as "dichterweihe." Williams (1971) incorporates Giangrande's critiques while maintaining that Lycidas is Apollo. Hunter briefly details the ways in which the poem utilizes material from Homer, Hesiod, Hipponax, Archilochus, 315 Simonides, Philetas, and Asclepiades (1996: 23-28). ! of ! 163 214 accurately reflects the effect of these allusions is also impossible. Nevertheless, several 316 allusions and partial literary precedents do help to elucidate the poem's unusual use of vision. The previous studies in this project have often focused on vision in terms of its relation to the social world of the text. For example, in Idyll 22, Amycus' description of the Dioscuri as "men I have not seen before" (22.55) explicitly ties his vision to the social function of identifying strangers. The erotic gazes in poems such as Idylls 3 and 6 also serve to determine interpersonal relationships, even when the attempt fails. In Idyll 7, the social world of the poem has a less direct relation to vision. This is partially because the social world of the poem offers less certainty. Lycidas is famously difficult to identify. He may be a god who bestows some kudos upon Simichidas. He may also be a famous poet (cf. Gow II: 129-130), a symbol of poetry 317 (Lawall 1967: 79; Gutzwiller 1991: 160-61), or simply a goatherd. Simichidas' relation to the other characters in the poem also seems indefinite, so much so that Simichidas famously forgets to mention their presence for the duration of his exchange with Lycidas. All of the social 318 relations in this poem are marked by some kind of uncertainty. The only person in the poem who makes a clear attempt to situate himself in a social world is Simichidas' friend, Aratus, who plays the exclusus amator, like Polyphemus in Idyll 11 or the goatherd in Idyll 3. Aratus longs for the boy Philinus. Simichidas, however, prays to Pan to ameliorate Aratus' love and even attempts to dissuade Aratus from this pursuit. Simichidas manages to endow Aratus' beloved with uncertainty when he asks Pan to: @-&25+/ 5O/+,+ 8'&#( =( <6D$#( =$6'3#,(, / 6L5? =35? ∞$# For this reason, Hunter warns that "there would be little to be gained from cataloguing all the (real or alleged) 316 allusions to earlier poetry which have been uncovered in Idyll 7" (1996: 23). Various deities have been proposed, including Apollo (Williams 1971), Pan (Brown 1981; Clauss 2003) and 317 Hermes (Hunter 1999: 144-199). Simichidas himself is also difficult to identify. Many see him as an avatar for the poet, but cf. Clayman 2009: 318 172-173. ! of ! 164 214 ±,&D/+( n µ#&0#-.( 6L54 5,( @&&+( "Press him unbidden into that one's dear arms, whether he is gentle Philinus or some other" (7.104-5). Simichidas' prays for a lover to satisfy Aratus' desire, but makes clear that the lover provided need not be Philinus specifically. His address to Aratus also repeatedly denies vision. In doing this, Simichidas articulates part of a much larger visual theme in the poem. a. Dissuading Aratus and Denying Vision Simichidas' attempt to discourage Aratus' love begins with the famous description of Philinus as "riper than a pear" (H*'+,+ *6*#'56$+(, 7.120). The comparison emphasizes the loss of time in which he will remain "ripe" or desirable, because pears ripen quickly (Gow II 161; Dover 1971: 163). The following line about the departure of his "bloom" (-#&./ @/0+( H*+$$6D, 7.121) confirms this, but the metaphor of Philinus as over-ripe pear also calls upon the reader's recollection of sensation. Over-ripe fruit can produce a variety of different sensations, from the visual appearance of brown spots and withering to a cloying scent, softness to the touch or mealiness on the tongue. The commentators prefer to focus on the tactile sensation and do so with the justification of reference to Philinus' softness earlier in the song (µ#&0#-.(, 7.105; Dover 1971: 163; Hunter 1999:188). However, there is good reason to read these lines in 319 visual rather than tactile terms. The pear metaphor and the failing bloom allude to Archilochus' Cologne Epode: #)#D, *4*6,$# >[ / @/]0+( >’H*6$$;2-6 *#$06/O®+/ "Alas, [she's] over-ripe, and her maiden's bloom has faded" (West 196a.17-18). The sequence of ripeness and faded bloom 320 connects the Idyll with the now famous passage of Archilochus. Henrichs (1980) discusses the Gow notes that "it is conceivable... that the epithet refers merely to Philinus' personal appearance" (II 157). 319 I have left the first line uncompleted because it does not significantly alter the meaning for my purposes. 320 Merkelbach and West (1974) finish the line >J( 5B32, while Campbell (1982) completes it >9 *4&6,. ! of ! 165 214 allusion at length and repeatedly notes the visual connotation of these lines. The metaphor of 321 beauty-as-bloom is a common image in erotic discourse going back to the early lyric poets (Hunter 1999: 189; Acosta-Hughes 2006: 41), and it almost always refers to a visual attribute (Henrichs 1980: 24). The allusion to Archilochus and the use of a lyric commonplace for 322 visual appearance confirms that lines 120-21 refer to a visual attribute of the boy. But Simichidas does not tell Aratus to notice the boy's faded looks. Instead, he must listen to the women's proclamation of this fact: #E >] I%/#D-6(, ‘#)#D,? 8#/5J, ≤±,&D/6, 5B 5+, -#&./ @/0+( H*+$$6D’ "and the women say 'alas, Philinus, your lovely bloom withers away" (7.120-121). An explicitly visual E.g. "in the eyes of the judges of a beauty contest, ' ripeness' looks doubtless better on apples and pears than on 321 the human body ... a woman classified as *4*#,$# was only temporarily attractive" (Henrichs 1980: 20-21). Another commentary confirms the focus of these lines on Neoboule's physical appearance (Bremer et al 1987: 41-42). The word anthos appears frequently in Theognis, most often in the phrase "flower of youth" (anthos hêbês, e.g. 322 994, 1007-8, 1070). In one case, Theognis clearly uses the word to describe the appearance of beauty (1017-22): #A5'-# µ+, -#57 µ]/ <$+,9/ w46, @3*65+( E>$s(, *5+,cµ#, >? =3+$c/ @/0+( nµ2&,-'2( 56$*/./ nµc( -#J -#&./M =*J *&4+/ å86&6/ 6R/#,M H&&? V&,I+<$B/,+/ I'/65#, ©3*6$ b/#$ íW2 5,µO633#M 5. >? +A&Bµ6/+/ -#J @µ+$8+/ #A5'<? G*]$ -68#&X( IX$#( G*6$-$4µ#5#,. At once unceasing sweat flows over my skin and I am fluttered looking on the bloom of my generation, so delightful and beauteous. It ought to be longer. But prized youth is like a short-lived dream: at once destructive and deformed old age hangs over one's head The bloom here belongs to a generation which is later identified as hêbê. Theognis' focus on vision (=3+$c/) suggests that this bloom refers to the boy's appearance, cf. the contrast with @µ+$8+/ ... IX$#( "deformed old age." An instance of anthos in Tyrtaeus allows us to confirm the visual connotation of the term (Tyrt. 10.27-29): .../4+,3, >] *1/5? =*4+,-6/, b8$? =$#5X( íW2( HI&#./ @/0+( S<P, H/>$13, µ]/ 0225.( )>6D/, =$#5.( >] I%/#,ZJ Everything goes right for young men, so long as he has the splendid bloom of lovely youth, a wonder to look upon for men and loved by women. This text occurs in a poem that focuses not on love, but on death in war. (For the significance of "the beautiful death", cf. Vernant 1991; on this passage, cf. pages 64-66.) Again the flower of youth is described in visual terms. ! of ! 166 214 sign (the boy's faded beauty) is expressed by a non-visual sign (the women's voices). The 323 avoidance of vision that this line introduces continues in the next line. Simichidas continues to negate vision in the service of palliating Aratus' love when he admonishes, "let us no longer stand watch at his door" (µ2-45, 5+, 8$+%$4Qµ6( =*J *$+0;$+,3,/, 7.122). The action of standing before the door refers to the situation of the paraclausithyron. 324 This is another explicitly visual situation, and the verb phroureô refers to the visual aspect of guarding. A suitor who comes to the door of the beloved might just leave a garland at the door 325 to be found when the door is opened. Leaving the garland is in fact more characteristic than the full vigil at the door (cf. Copley 1940: 59 with citations), but to stand guard at the door is to watch for it to be opened so that one might enter or witness the beloved exiting. The goatherd 326 of Idyll 3, who performs the rustic equivalent of a paraclausithyron outside of a nymph's cave, shows this. At times he hopes for her to peek out and look at him. At other times he hopes to 327 look upon her. When Simichidas suggests that Aratus and he should stop guarding the door, he 328 Acosta-Hughes notes that the women's implicit "gaze" differs from the male sympotic perspective which 323 pervades the rest of the song; this gives the reader multiple perspectives with which to consider Philinus (Acosta- Hughes 2006: 42). Cf. Copley 1940: 58: "The -+'µ23,( [i.e. "the lover's vigil at the door"] has come to be almost synonymous with 324 the paraclausithyron itself." The exhortation in the next line to stop "wearing out our feet" (µ2>] *B>#( 5$'WQµ6(, 7.123) suggests the wandering procession of the kômos (Gow II 162), which precedes the vigil at the door. Although the etymological root of the word comes from a combination of *$+ ("before") and U$+( ("boundary") 325 (Chantraine 1968: 1229, cf. Smyth §124), it frequently evokes the vision of the watchman. That a watchman looks past this boundary for threats is logically entailed by his position at the boundary. This aspect of the verb is made most explicit in Sophocles' Trachiniae: -HId &#0$#D+/ bµµ? =*63-,#3µ4/2 / 8$+;$+%/M n$c >] 59/ I%/#D-# >6µ/'+,( / 5+D( ≥$#-&6'+,( 35$Q57 W1&&+%3#/ 81$2 "And I kept watch, shading a secret eye. I saw the woman tossing the coverlets spread on Heracles' bed" (Soph. Trach. 914-16). Similarly, the watchman (±;&#Z) in Aeschylus' Agamemnon describes the "length of [his] year long watch" (8$+%$z( =56'#( µX-+() as a weary time of sitting on the roof and looking at the horizon for the signal fire (Ag. 1-8). His watch, too, is performed with the eyes. He fears to sleep lest he close his eyes and miss the fire (Ag. 14-15). Ps.-Theocritus Idyll 23 depicts a lover who kills himself so that his beloved might find him on the doorstep (Id. 326 23.35-42). cf. 3.39: -#' -4 µ?L3Q( *+5'>+, "and perhaps she might look at me" 327 cf. 3.37-8: ∞$1 I? )>23c / #A51/; "Will I see her?" 328 ! of ! 167 214 encourages Aratus to stop watching for the boy. As in the previous lines about Philinus' faded beauty, the intent of this line is to discourage Aratus' lover's gaze. These references to erotic vision are joined by another negation of vision when Simichidas suggests a ritual to avert the evil eye at the end of the song. The final negation of vision in the song occurs in the last lines when Simichidas suggests that he and Aratus allow an old woman to spit on them in order to keep away 57 µ9 -#&7 (7.126-127). In this context, the phrase likely refers to the evil eye (Gow II 163; cf. Gershenson 1969: 152-53). To avert the evil eye is to neutralize this violent power of vision. Since the 329 transmissive power of erotic vision is analogous to that of the evil eye (Blundell et al 2013: 19-20), the aversion of the evil eye is similar to the aversion of Aratus' erotic gaze upon Philinus, although in this case Simichidas and Aratus are the objects of vision rather than the viewers. The apotropaic spitting of the old woman ensures that Aratus and Simichidas not be subject to the power of another. Thus, by negating the evil eye she also negates the opportunity for another to use vision as a way to overpower or control them. The end of Simichidas' song reveals an important theme for the poem. He admits the power of vision in social interactions. The importance of Philinus' faded beauty and the necessity of the protection from the evil eye prove that. But Simichidas displaces this vision. The old woman prevents the evil eye's power and Philinus' faded beauty is expressed in terms of the voices of the women rather than by direct description of his appearance. In one sense, Simichidas is simply displacing vision in order to displace Aratus' unrequited love of Philinus, but in another sense, he rejects vision itself. This rejection can be better recognized in the other instances of The thing they wish to keep away may be the ugliness (57 µ9 -1&#, 7.127) which might result from a successful 329 curse by the evil eye. The phrase 57 µ9 -1&# is used in the same way about Polyphemus' ugliness at Id. 6.19. ! of ! 168 214 vision in the poem, all of which are articulated by Simichidas. The other instance in which vision clearly functions as a social mediator is the description of Lycidas. Closer attention to this passage suggests a similar refusal of social vision and an interest in the relationship between vision and interpretation more generally. b. Lycidas' Appearance and Signification Simichidas' description of Lycidas suggests that vision helps him interpret the identity of the goatherd, but this impression quickly gives way to confusion (7.11-14): ... -#J 5,/? n>'5#/ =30&./ 3q/ á+'3#,3, i%>Q/,-./ 6t$+µ6( @/>$#, +e/+µ# µ]/ É%-'>#/, l( >? #)*B&+(, +A>4 -4 5'( /,/ àI/+'236/ )>s/, =*6J #)*B&u SZ+<? =Ö-6,. We spotted with the Muses' help some wayfarer, a Cydonian man, a good man; by name, he was Lycidas, and he was a goatherd. No one would fail to recognize him if they saw him, since he looked just like a goatherd. Simichidas explains how Lycidas' appearance permits him to be categorized with the label goatherd. In explaining how he interprets Lycidas' appearance, he seems to subject Lycidas to the logic of signification. Simichidas sees his appearance (the signifier) and infers the identity "goatherd" (the signified). The inference which Simichidas makes between Lycidas' appearance and his identity is the kind of interpretation required by signification. But the description may strike a reader as odd because it verges on tautology: Lycidas is what he is because he looks especially like what he is. The signified and the signifier are even indicated by the same word in the same sedes. Many before have noted that these lines paint Lycidas as more than he seems. 330 Most telling is the verb =Ö-6,, which in Homer often refers to a god or human whose appearance Ott 1969: 170; Goldhill 1991: 228-29; Hunter 1999: 156-57. 330 ! of ! 169 214 leads an observer to infer an identity. Often the appearance which =Ö-6, introduces differs 331 from that of the character's real identity. =Ö-6, suggests a difference, and we might recall that all signs need a difference to function. The difficulty of this passage is that there is no real difference. The tautologous description leaves no room for the act of inference which confirms the signification. The indistinguishability of the visual signifier and verbal signified make Lycidas' identity unclear. While the reader of the poem might overlook the displacement of vision in Simichidas' song, the puzzling effect of Lycidas' appearance is harder to overlook and is frequently noted. The problem of his identity evokes questions of signification and challenges the easy relationship between seeing and meaning which I have described in chapters 1 and 2. The under-signification of Lycidas in these lines is complemented by an over-signification in the lines that follow. After describing who Lycidas is and how he determined this, Simichidas gives a brief survey of Lycidas' sensory attributes (7.15-20): =- µ]/ I7$ &#3'+,+ >#3;5$,<+( 6R<6 5$1I+,+ -/#-./ >4$µ? åµ+,3, /4#( 5#µ'3+,+ *+5B3>+/, Hµ8J >4 +E 35O0633, I4$Q/ =38'II65+ *4*&+( hQ35X$, *&#-6$_, w+,-7/ >? S<6/ HI$,6&#'Q >6Z,56$â -+$;/#/. -#' µ? H5$4µ#( 6R*6 363#$s( bµµ#5, µ6,>,BQ/5,, I4&Q( >4 +E 6L<65+ <6'&6%(M For he had on his shoulders the tawny skin of a course-haired shaggy goat redolent of fresh rennet, and around his chest an old peplos was cinched with a broad belt, and he had a crooked club of wild olive in his right hand. With a gentle grin and a smiling eye, he addressed me, and laughter clung to his lips. Hunter identifies the phrase SZ+<? =Ö-6, (7.14) as a variation of a Homeric formula to describe a god in disguise, 331 *1/5# =Ö-6, (Od. 4.654, 24.446, cf. Il. 21.600). However, Hunter omits the use of this phrase to describe Achilles successfully identifying the human Machaon (Il. 11.613). We also might note the similar phrase @I<,35# =Ö-6, which compares Archelochus with his father (Il. 14.474). By itself, the verb =Ö-# does often describe gods in disguise, but also describes the mortals Hector and Achilles when they seem like gods (Il. 24.258, 24.630), as well as Odysseus' human appearance (Od. 1.411). Arnott, who also notes the parallel with *1/5# =Ö-6,, takes a more skeptical approach to Lycidas' potential divinity (Arnott 1984: 339). ! of ! 170 214 The last two lines confirm that Simichidas has been looking at Lycidas, who returns his gaze ("with a smiling eye"). The usual reading of this passage deduces either mimetic realism-- Lycidas as the ideal goatherd (Segal 1981: 119)--or hyper-realism that leads the reader to question the verity of Lycidas' appearance (Goldhill 1991: 228-29). Both of these readings acknowledge the semiotic content of these lines: the attributes that Simichidas describes act as signifiers of Lycidas' identity. In favor of realism, one can note the goatskin, rustic scent 332 (Segal 1981:130), and shabby dress. On the other hand, the hyper-real reading is supported by 333 several attributes in Simichidas' list which suggest different identities for Lycidas. The combination of an animal skin and a club echoes the appearance of Heracles, and the broad 334 belt (hQ35O$) is primarily worn by Homeric heroes (Gow II 136), while Lycidas' laughing demeanor resembles that of a god (Hunter 1999: 157). The visual signs offer several incompatible ways of interpreting Lycidas. While the tautologous description of lines 13-14 offered too little difference for signification to work properly, these lines offer too many different significations. This over-signification, or polysemy, similarly raises questions about the veracity of Simichidas' vision. Although the description of Lycidas does not avoid vision the way the end of Simichidas' song does, it emphasizes the incapacity of vision to provide a reader access to the important aspects of the text. If the reader fails to identify Lycidas, this is directly the result of 335 This is especially important given the absence of goats, first noted by Ott 1969: 144. 332 Gow notes the likeness of the belt and *4*&+( to the raiment of the swineherd Eumaeus (Gow II 136). 333 Lycidas' "staff" is not called a &#IQWB&+/ until it is given to Simichidas (7.128). Here and at 7.43, it is called a 334 club, -+$;/#. Cf. Id. 25.63 >4$µ# 56 02$.( ... <6,$+*&20X 56 -+$;/2/ "[Heracles'] animal skin and hand-filling club." Despite the many attempts to identify Lycidas, the most judicious way to read him is to accept the ambiguity of 335 his identity. "If he is wearing a mask, the mask remains firmly in place" (Payne 2007: 120-21). Cf. Walker 1980: 66 and Krevans 1983: 219. ! of ! 171 214 the way the poem narrates his appearance. The non-visual element of the description of Lycidas, i.e. his smelling like rennet, unambiguously represents him in accord with Simichidas' assertion that he is simply a goatherd. In this way, the description of Lycidas, which challenges the 336 efficacy of social vision, seems consistent with the end of Simichidas' song, where a non-visual sign (the women's voices, 7.120) stands in place of visual evidence of the boy's faded beauty. Simichidas' advice to Aratus and his description of Lycidas explore the limits of vision as a vehicle for interpretation and, more generally, explore the nature and limitation of signification. The limitations of signification appear again more emphatically at the end of the poem. c. The Winnowing-Shovel: Signifying Slippage The poem ends with a mysterious sign: the planting of the winnowing-shovel in the heap of grain for Demeter. This image offers the reader a final opportunity for interpretation, and 337 like Lycidas, it must be interpreted through vision (7.155-57): WQµ_ *7$ ^1µ#5$+( H&u'>+(; ¥( =*J 3Q$_ #ç5,( =Id *1Z#,µ, µ4I# *5;+/, Æ >] I6&133#, >$1Iµ#5# -#J µ1-Q/#( =/ Hµ8+54$#,3,/ S<+,3#. ...beside the altar of Demeter of the Threshing Floor. On her heap might I again plant a great winnowing-shovel, and might she smile while having sheaves and poppies in both hands. The shovel's visual dimension is only implicit. No sense describes how one might perceive the shovel, but as described the shovel offers no indication of an aural, olfactory or tactile Cf. Gow II 136. Although, Hunter suggests that this scent is "a humorous variation on the sweet smell which 336 normally attends divine epiphany" (1999:157). This implement is more commonly referred to as a "winnowing-fan," but this designation is erroneous. The 337 winnowing-fan and winnowing-shovel are different tools. The fan (&'-/+/) is a basket-like device through which one can sift the chaff away from the grain; it is unlikely to be mistaken for an oar. The shovel (*5;+/) is used to toss the grain in the air and separate it from the chaff upon impact with the hard surface of the shovel (Harrison 1903: 292-305). Giangrande confirms that Theocritus' *5;+/ is the shovel and not the fan, as Lassere had posited (Giangrande 1968: 499-501). ! of ! 172 214 dimension. The smile of Demeter in response to the planting of the shovel suggests that this is a votive offering. Such an offering is "a lasting, visible gift: a witness to one's relationship with the deity" (Burkert 1987: 93), and presents "an opportunity to parade one's success before the eyes of gods and men" (Burkert 1987: 69). In fact, Dover notes the similarity of the wording in these lines to that found in dedicatory inscriptions (Dover 1971: 166). Jane Harrison's study of the 338 various winnowing implements in antiquity has argued that the planting of the winnowing-shovel is a sign that the task is done (1903: 305-306; cf. Harrison 1904: 242). The shovel in this poem is clearly a sign of some kind, though its significance is not immediately clear. We also know 339 that this sign must be seen, but the poem ends without making explicit what it signifies. The winnowing-shovel augments its signification through allusion to arguably the most famous "sign" in Greek literature, the "winnowing-shovel" of Odysseus (Od. 11.119-130): #A57$ =*9/ µ/235X$#( =/J µ6I1$+,3, 56+D3, -56'/P( à] >B&u ä Hµ8#>./ VZ4, <#&-_, S$<630#, >9 S*6,5#, &#Wd/ =%X$6( =$65µB/, 6)( U -6 5+q( H8'-2#, +≠ +A- L3#3, 01&#33#/ H/4$6(, +A>4 0? m&633, µ6µ,Iµ4/+/ 6R>#$ S>+%3,/M +A>? @$# 5+' I? L3#3, /4#( 8+,/,-+*#$µ+%(, +A>? =%O$6? =$65µ1, 51 56 *56$7 /2%3J *4&+/5#,. 3Xµ# >4 5+, =$4Q µ1&? H$,8$#>4(, +A>4 36 &O36,M n**B56 -6/ >O 5+, 3%µW&Oµ6/+( @&&+( n>'52( 8OP H02$2&+,I./ S<6,/ H/7 8#,>'µu åµu, -#J 5B56 >9 I#'P *OZ#( =%X$6( =$65µB/, w4Z#( E6$7 -#&7 r+36,>1Q/, @/#-5,... But when you kill the suitors in your house either by a trick or openly with sharp bronze, then take your well-formed oar and go until you reach a country whose men do not know Dover cites one inscription as emblematic: ±#$04/6 (i.e. *#$04/6) ... p6&63D/+( @I#&µ? H/406-6 / ... ã <#'$+%3( 338 >,>+'2( @&+ (i.e. @&&?) H/#06D/#, "Athena, Telesinus set up a statue [for you], if you like it, might you give for him to dedicate another" (IG i∂.650). Rosenmeyer calls the winnowing-shovel planted in the heap a "directional sign" (1969: 125), by which he seems 339 to mean that it is part of the setting and gives the poem a sense of reverence because it is planted for Demeter (1969: 125-26). ! of ! 173 214 the sea, nor do they eat their food mixed with salt, nor do they even know purple-cheeked ships, nor well-formed oars, which are the wings of ships. And I will tell you an unmistakable sign; it will not escape you: whenever some wayfarer encounters you and says that you have a "chaff-destroyer" on your stout shoulder, then at once planting your well-formed oar in the earth and making fitting offerings to lord Poseidon... Although the actual sign (3Xµ#) that Odysseus will notice is the wayfarer's misrecognition of the oar as winnowing-shovel, the oar itself is also a sign, which must be interpreted by the wayfarer (Hansen 1977: 39; Peradotto 1990: 158). As with the winnowing-shovel of Simichidas, this 340 sign is implicitly visual (cf. Nagy 1990: 231-32); the wayfarer must see the oar's shape in order to interpret it as a winnowing-shovel. The allusion to these lines in Idyll 7 is impressionistic. Direct textual parallel is largely lacking, although the same verb is used for the planting (*1Z#,µ,, 7.156; *OZ#(, Od. 11.129; cf. Harrison 1903: 306). Nevertheless, there are some clues that Simichidas' winnowing-shovel is Homeric. The mention of Polyphemus becoming drunk and 341 hurling a mountain-top, which precedes the planting of the winnowing-shovel (7.151-54), recalls the Odyssey (Hunter 1999: 197). Although the Cyclops story is separated from the Nekuia by a few other episodes, the recollection of the wanderings of Odysseus may be sufficient to suggest a Homeric connotation for the winnowing-shovel (cf. Hunter 1996: 23). The contrast of a water 342 journey (in Lycidas' song) and a land journey (in the narrative frame) mirrors the addition of a land journey to Odysseus' water journey in Tiresias' prophecy (cf. Segal 1981: 158). While the cf. Purves 2006: 12-13: "while one could argue that the 3Xµ# Teiresias tells to Odysseus refers to more than the 340 physical oar--rather to the entire encounter with the stranger or, more specifically, with the stranger's alien term H02$2&+,IB( ("winnowing-shovel")--it is in keeping with the Homeric system of 3Oµ#5# cloistered around the end of the poem (such as the scar and bed) to read the oar as the material sign from which the rest of Teiresias' message unfolds." These observations are based largely on those offered by Segal (1981: 158-59). 341 Hunter reinforces this claim in his commentary: "'the sense of an ending' is reinforced by an echo of Tiresias' 342 prophecy to Odysseus that ... he must plant (*OZ#() the oar in the earth and sacrifice to Poseidon; this will be the end of his wandering (Od. 11.119-137). Simichidas' Odyssey is also over" (1999: 199). ! of ! 174 214 oar of Odysseus is mentioned in Tireseias' prophecy, Simichidas' shovel is mentioned in a prayer; both types of "ritualized" speech evoke the potential of the objects. The echo of this famous 343 sêma confirms that Simichidas' winnowing-shovel is significant and is a signifier. But the question remains: what does this sign mean? The planted winnowing-shovel that ends the poem serves as a climax for the motifs that I have discussed already. The description of Lycidas introduces the ambiguity of signification when expressed in visual terms. As an ambiguous visual sign, the winnowing-shovel recalls this aspect of the poem. The shovel planted in the grain seems to be a clear image, but it is expressed as a wish, which implies but does not directly state that there is a heap of grain beside Demeter's altar with a winnowing-shovel planted in it. The image is both there and not there. The winnowing-shovel, so far as we have discussed, similarly escapes a specific meaning. The meaning of the winnowing-shovel in the poem has been interpreted generally. Segal calls the planting of the winnowing-shovel a "return ... to the known and the finite, to a more familiar, rooted, and less fantastic natural world" (Segal 1981: 158). The finiteness of the shovel itself, however, is questioned by an additional allusion that has been overlooked by previous commentators. Hunter and Segal have identified the mysterious winnowing-shovel which is planted at the end of Idyll 7 as an allusion to the oar/winnowing-shovel in the prophecy of Tiresias, but there is another passage earlier in Odyssey 11 which is also worth considering (Od. 11.75-78): 3Xµ1 54 µ+, <6C#, *+&,X( =*J 0,/J 0#&1332(, H/>$.( >%35O/+,+ -#J =33+µ4/+,3, *%0430#,. The combination of #ç5,( and the optative (Id. 7.156) suggests an iterability that allows the planting to extend 343 beyond the measure of the poem. This also resembles an aspect of Homer's winnowing-shovel (Purves 2006: 8-11). I owe this observation to Christian Lehmann. ! of ! 175 214 5#C51 54 µ+, 56&43#, *XZ#' 5’ =*J 5;µWu =$65µB/, 5_ -#J hQ.( S$633+/ =d/ µ65’ =µ+D( Y51$+,3,/. Heap up a tomb for me on the strand of the grey sea, so even future people might know it as the tomb of an unlucky man. Accomplish this for me and plant my oar in the tomb, with which I rowed while alive among my comrades. Like the prophecy of Tiresias, this passage offers few direct parallels with the end of the Idyll, yet it may also be a parallel for our winnowing-shovel. While the planting of Odysseus' oar serves a somewhat mysterious and perhaps religious purpose, the planting of Elpenor's oar is 344 more straightforward. The oar that is planted to make his tomb signifies the end of his task as rower (Heubeck 1989: 82; cf. Dougherty 2001: 173). The planting of a winnowing-shovel in a heap of grain indicates a similar completion of labor (see above). Another likeness between Elpenor's oar and Simichidas' winnowing-shovel is the presence of a heap into which the tool is planted. Tiresias' prophecy does not specify any structure to be fabricated. The oar is simply to be planted in the earth and sacrifices to Poseidon and the other gods performed (Od. 11.129-131). Elpenor's tomb is closely associated with the planting of Odysseus' oar in the Odyssey, and the winnowing-shovel at the end of Idyll 7 may be constructed to evoke both of these passages. Elpenor's oar is the touchstone by which Odysseus' oar in Tiresias' prophecy can be interpreted. In Tieresias' prophecy the actual 3Xµ# which Odysseus must notice is the speech of the wayfarer who calls his oar a "chaff-destroyer." The symbolic importance of the oar is only made clear by analogy with Elpenor's oar, which becomes part of a 3Xµ#. Both passages involve religious rites (Elpenor's funeral and the sacrifices to the gods) as well as the planting of an oar (I#'P *OZ#( 6AX$6( =$65µB/, 11.129; *XZ#,5? =*J 5;µWu =$65µB/, 11.77). The planting of Hansen (1977: 35) calls the inland journey an aition for inland cults of Poseidon. 344 ! of ! 176 214 Odysseus' oar is mysterious. Its significance is unclear within Tiresias' narrative. The likeness between the planted oars adds a depth of meaning to the planting of Odysseus' oar. In fact, Odysseus' oar is recognizable as a "sign" 3Xµ# largely because of it recalls Elpenor's which becomes part of his 3Xµ# or "tomb" (Hansen 1977: 39; Nagy 1983: 44-45). By evoking both Elpenor's tomb and Tiresias' prophecy from Odyssey 11, the winnowing-shovel in Idyll 7 encourages a reader to reflect on the way in which signs are created and interpreted. There is also the potential for a neat reversal of the Tiresian prophecy. In the Odyssey, Tiresias' prophecy describes an oar which resembles a winnowing-shovel. In Theocritus, we really do have a winnowing-shovel (*5;+/), but it resembles an oar by virtue of its association with Elpenor's 345 and Odysseus' oars. Further evidence that Idyll 7 is aware of both of these passages can be found in a striking structural parallel between the Idyll and Odyssey 11: both poems feature a winnowing shovel which draws upon a tomb (3Xµ#) from earlier in the text. The tomb of Brasilas appears at the opening of the Idyll, and like the tomb of Elpenor, it adds significance to a winnowing-shovel that appears later in the text. In Odyssey 11, the tomb and the winnowing-shovel are correlated (see above), while in Idyll 7, the tomb and the shovel serve as significant framing elements of the text. The tomb of Brasilas is the first and only detail of the setting of the poem that precedes the arrival at the festival. The tomb is mentioned as a 346 landmark on Simichidas' journey: -+e*Q 57/ µ6315#/ n>./ @/%µ6(, +A>] 5. 3zµ# gµJ/ 5. This word is not used in Tiresias' prophecy, but Eustathius does gloss it for H02$2&+,I./: H02$2&+,I./, U =35, 345 *5;+/, &,-µ25O$,+/, 5. 5c/ H04$Q/ V&+0$6%5,-B/ (Stallbaum 1825: 402). The imagined description of Bourina with its concrete details ("poplars and elms wove a shady grove, growing 346 shaggy overhead with green leaves," 7.8-9) only emphasizes the blankness of the poem's landscape at this point. Two prepositional phrases ("to the Haleis" and "from the city," 1.1-2) mark the start and endpoint of the journey. These two poles allow one to imagine the path of the journey, but not to envision a concrete landscape. Similarly, lines 130-131 give a rudimentary indication of place and direction when Lycidas and Simichidas split just before the festival. Lycidas goes to the left toward Pyxa, while Simichidas and his companions turn toward Phrasidamus' farm. These spatial markers are insignificant to my reading of the poem. ! of ! 177 214 ê$#3'&# -#568#'/65+ "we did not yet pass the midpoint of the journey, nor was the tomb of Brasilas visible to us" (7.10-11). Although the phrasing suggests that the sêma does eventually appear, it is never described by the poem. The meeting with Lycidas so engrosses Simichidas that he does not describe his surroundings again until he reaches his destination and Lycidas has left him (7.130ff). Because it remains unseen, the tomb of Brasilas is unable to signify the specific 347 point of progress which it marks. But for the reader of the poem, the tomb's absence also 348 functions as a positive signification. The unseen tomb serves as the lone detail that illustrates the "landscape" in which Simichidas encounters Lycidas, endowing this landscape with a sense of absence or ethereality (Hunter 1999: 155). The planted winnowing-shovel and the tomb of Brasilas create a framework for the space of Simichidas' journey. The tomb of Brasilas identifies the point at which the journey to the festival enters the unmapped and indeterminate space of the encounter with Lycidas. As Segal notes, the planting of the winnowing-shovel closes that 349 indeterminate space (see above). The synergy between tomb and winnowing-shovel evokes a 350 similar connection in the Odyssey between a tomb (Elpenor's oar) and a winnowing-shovel (Odysseus' oar). The fact that this tomb remains unseen serves as another parallel with the tomb of Elpenor, which is unlikely to 347 be seen by anyone because it is built on Circe's island, which lies within sailing distance of the edge of Ocean and the underworld. Odysseus describes Circe's island as one which "endless sea is crowned around" (Od. 10.195). Assuming that Odysseus' journey to the underworld is not aided by supernatural speed, Circe's island is one day's sail from Ocean and thus very far from where anyone might see Elpenor's tomb. We cannot know for certain which distance on their journey the 3Xµ# marked, but the consecutive conjunction 348 oude suggests that the sêma occurred near the midpoint (cf. Arnott 1979: 104). In addition to losing track of the geography of his journey, Simichidas also ignores his companions who only 349 appear again after Lycidas has departed (Id. 7.131). The planting of the winnowing-shovel in the Odyssey similarly marks a return from an "unmappable 350 landscape" (Purves 2006: 1). ! of ! 178 214 This reading of Simichidas' winnowing-shovel complicates our understanding of its allusiveness and endows the shovel with a sense of uncertainty. A 3Xµ# must be seen to function. Elpenor's tomb is a memorial which is located in a place with no humans to see it (see note # above), or where the humans who do come will be turned into animals by Circe. Odysseus' inland journey is similarly evocative of uncertainty. We know that Odysseus' arrival in the underworld is approximately the midpoint of his wanderings, but the addition of another journey of indeterminate length after his return home--he must go until he meets the right stranger-- makes the final dimensions of his wanderings less certain (cf. Purves 2006: 16-17). The Theocritean winnowing-shovel generates its own uncertainty. The allusions to the Odyssey suggest that this winnowing-shovel is something more, but no concrete meaning emerges. 351 Like Lycidas's appearance, the winnowing-shovel is unable to signify. Our attempts to find more meaning in it yield little. The most that can be deduced from this allusion is a vague sense of 352 closure (Segal 1981: 158; Hunter 1999: 199). That sense of closure is complemented by a sense of uncertainty. The reader of Theocritus is like the wayfarer of Tiresias' prophecy who only sees what he knows. We can search for meaning in the winnowing-shovel but we can only find meaning if we provide it ourselves. The winnowing-shovel, like Lycidas' polysemous appearance, gives the reader much to work with, but little to conclude. The shovel's pairing with the tomb of Brasilas frames the narrative of the poem with a landscape that evokes signification Perhaps an oar, although the other hand tool that readers of Idyll 7 will have in mind is the &#IQWB&+/ which 351 Simichidas receives from Lycidas and which we must presume he carries with him at the festival. Hunter identifies a similar effect in the allusive narrative of Thyrsis' song about Daphnis in Idyll 1: "The very 352 allusiveness of Thyrsis' narrative demands a different, but related, mode of reading to that necessary in the reading of an ekphrasis, such as the goatherd's description of the cup. As ekphrasis offers more 'than is actually there' (the thoughts and emotions of the figures, for example), so the song offers less 'than is actually there,' no matter whether we are to bring to our reading of the song knowledge of a pre-existing Daphnis story ... or whether our very strong feeling of ellipse is purely a product of the poet's 'invention of tradition'" (Hunter 1999: 63). ! of ! 179 214 but also questions it. The landscape which I discern in these framing elements, however, is dwarfed by the detailed landscape of the harvest festival which serves as the climax of the poem (7.131-146). This festival scene is the goal of Simichidas' journey (7.1-4), and it offers a surprising contribution to the theme of vision and uncertainty which I have documented so far. d. Locus Amoenus: An Unseen Landscape The locus amoenus is the climax of the poem and the climax of its elision of vision as well. Most read this passage as in some way responding to the songs exchanged by Lycidas and Simichidas. It also can be read as an escape from the world of social song-making into the 353 world of nature (Berger 1984: 22). In either case, as a set-piece description, it rivals the 354 ecphrases in Idylls 1 and 15 as a quintessentially Theocritean set-piece. The locus amoenus 355 vividly presents a landscape which exists before the senses of the characters in the poem. 356 Surprisingly, vision is almost completely absent from this passage (7.131-146): ... #A57$ =Is/ 56 -#J üe-$,5+( =( ±$#3,>1µQ 35$#804/56( <a -#&.( µ;/5,<+( S/ 56 W#06'#,( Most frequently, the bestowal of the herdsman's staff is taken as a sign of poetic initiation that endows 353 Simichidas with new poetic ability (Puelma 1960: 156-60). Such a reading ignores that Simichidas has already identified himself as an established poet (7.37-38; cf. Hutchinson 1988: 205; Payne 2007: 139-40). Nevertheless, he does seem to adapt his narration of the locus amoenus to the cues of the passages that precede it. Some see Simichidas as offering a response to Lycidas that differs in style and tone from his own song (Pearce 1988: 300). On the other hand, the locus amoenus has been seen as a continuation of the narrative style from Simichidas' song, which contrasts with that of Lycidas (Walsh 1985: 15-16). Payne sees an independent development of Simichidas' style: "the artifice of Simichidas' voice [in the locus amoenus]--his heterogeneous vocabulary and the density of stylistic and mimetic effects he employs--is a surprise after the straightforward narration that precedes it, and is the first unambiguous indication that the Simichidas who narrates the poem is a rather different poet from the one who appears within it" (2007: 134). He contrasts this artifice with Lycidas' admonition not to "labor in vain." For Berger, this escape is failed, and the locus amoenus compares unfavorably with the song of Lycidas (1984: 354 22-24). This makes his evaluation similar to that of Walsh in the above note. Segal calls it "a mythic transfiguration of the bucolic world" and notes its parallels with the world of Daphnis 355 from Idyll 1 (1983: 183). Goldhill notes that "the landscape seems invested with a metapoetic force" which parallels that of Idyll 1; he continues, "[the] programmatic journey ... ends suitably in a poetic grove" (1991: 238-39). Zanker calls the locus amoenus a "tour de force" (2004: 48). Cf. Hunter 1999: 192: "The similarity of the opening locus of Bourina draws attention to the difference between 356 'the literary' and 'the real'." Hunter notes that while the scene of Bourina seems to be largely based on other literary models, the locus amoenus is characterized more by "a powerful appeal to the senses" (ibid). ! of ! 180 214 g>6'#( 3<+'/+,+ <#µ6%/'3,/ =-&'/02µ6( S/ 56 /6+5µ15+,3, I6I#0B56( +)/#$4+,3,. *+&&#J >’ @µµ,/ t*6$06 -#57 -$#5.( >+/4+/5+ #LI6,$+, *56&4#, 56M 5. >’ =II;06/ E6$./ t>Q$ §%µ8z/ =Z @/5$+,+ -#56,WBµ6/+/ -6&1$%h6. 5+J >] *+5J 3-,#$#D( V$+>#µ/'3,/ #)0#&'Q/6( 5455,I6( &#&#I6C/56( S<+/ *B/+/M g >’ V&+&%Id/ 52&B06/ =/ *%-,/#D3, W15Q/ 5$;h63-6/ H-1/0#,(. @6,>+/ -B$%>+, -#J H-#/0'>6(, S356/6 5$%Is/, *Q5c/5+ Z+%0#J *6$J *'>#-#( Hµ8J µ4&,33#,. *1/5’ K3>6/ 04$6+( µ1&# *'+/+(, K3>6 >’ V*s$#(. b</#, µ]/ *7$ *+33', *#$7 *&6%$#D3, >] µz&# >#T,&4Q( gµD/ =-%&'/>65+M 5+J >’ =-4<%/5+ b$*#-6( W$#W'&+,3, -#5#W$'0+/56( S$#h6M But I and Eucritus and handsome little Amyntas turned to Phrasidamus' place, rejoiced, and reclined on deep pallets of sweet rush and in freshly cut vine leaves. Many poplars and elms murmured from above over our heads, and nearby the sacred water babbled as it poured down from the cave of the Nymphs. The sooty-colored cicadas on shady little branches went to work at chattering. The frog croaked from afar in the dense spines of brambles. Larks and finches were singing, the dove, moaning, and bees, flying abuzz around the springs. Everything smelled deeply of a rich summer harvest, and it smelled of ripe fruit. Pears at our feet and apples at our sides rolled in plenty, and the shoots weighed down with sloe cascaded to the ground. The locus amoenus is made up of largely disarticulated elements which appeal to non-visual senses. Both Hunter and Payne describe the passage as a catalogue of sensations, but their inventories of these sensations include only sounds, scents, and taste; vision is noticeably absent (Hunter 1999: 192; Payne 2007: 132-33). The scene begins and ends with the movement of 357 trees, while adverbs (t*6$06, 7.135; =II;06/, 7.136; 52&B06/, 7.140; etc.) and prepositional phrases (=( ±$#3,>1µQ, 7.131; S/ ... <#µ6%/'3,/, 7.132-33; -#57 -$#5.(, 7.135; etc.) orient the space around the celebrants for the reader. These spatial markers have the potential to activate Lawall and Ott also have described the sensory details of the locus amoenus without mentioning vision (Lawall 357 1967: 102; Ott 1969: 143). pace Zanker 2004: 48 and Walsh 1985: 17. ! of ! 181 214 the reader's visual imagination, but even if a reader forms a clear visual impression of the 358 scene, the text explicitly avoids describing the scene in terms of vision. Before reaching a conclusion about the significance of this aspect of the locus amoenus, first I will carefully go over each part of the locus amoenus to show how completely it avoids vision. The movement of the trees avoids visual expression. The poplars and elms are said to rustle both "from above" (t*6$06) and "over our heads" (-#57 -$#5.(). This attention to 359 direction and orientation to the bodies of the perceivers emphasize the immanence of the sensation caused by the trees. Such immanent sensation encourages the reader to imagine the experience, but does not necessitate a visual image. The verb used to describe the action of the trees is doneô, which commonly describes the movement of the trees by wind (cf. Il. 17.55 and Id. 24.90). But this verb also often refers to a commotion that is accompanied by a sound. 360 Gow's translation, which I have followed, suggests that the movement of the trees is indicated by their sound rather than their appearance (Gow I 65). If such is the case, then the revelers need not see the trees to know that they are moving. The lines are ambiguous as to whether the sound of 361 the trees or the sight of the branches comes from above. But these trees are much less visually- oriented than the trees in the grove of Bourina which is described at the start of the poem: Tsagalis briefly describes the cognitive mechanisms which allow a reader to transform spatial indicators into 358 visual images (2012: 9-15). On the potential ocular effect of deixis, cf. Felson 2004. cf. Dover 1971: 164: "clearly -#57 -$#5B( is what we should express in English as 'above our heads'." 359 Hom. Hymn 3.270-271, of the sounds of chariots and horses; Hom. Hymn 4.563, of a swarm of bees; Ar. Birds 360 1182-83, of flocks of birds flapping their wings; Pindar Pyth. 10.38-39, of dancers "swirled" with songs. Even when Theocritus uses the verb to describe Heracles raging in the bramble bushes (Id. 13.65), we can imagine the sounds of Heracles' frantic movement displacing the vegetation. The beginning of this rampage is explicitly aural: "Heracles shouted 'Hylas!' three times as loud as his deep throat could bellow" (13.59). cf. Gow II 164: "overhead, with no implication of movement down or over." Dover suggests that -#57 -$#5.( 361 alludes to Tantalus in the Odyssey, for whom trees hang fruit -#57 -$X06/ "above his head," but always out of reach (Dover 1971: 164-65). Implicit in the story of Tantalus is that he can see the fruit, but never obtain it. Whether this is of any relevance to the passage of Theocritus is unclear. ! of ! 182 214 #LI6,$+, *56&4#, 56 =;3-,+/ @&3+( t8#,/+/, / <&Q$+D3,/ *651&+,3, -#52$6846( -+µBQ3#, "poplars and elms wove a shady grove, growing shaggy overhead with green leaves" (7.8-9). The colors and textures of these lines produce a more distinctly visual description than any image in the locus amoenus. The sensations described as the reader proceeds through the locus amoenus 362 are largely aural rather than visual, including a babbling brook, cicadas chirping, frogs croaking, birds singing, and bees buzzing. Despite the detailed spatial organization of the passage, the imagery dissolves into the nebulous dispersal of sounds and scents. The scents which animate the scene are given no definite location and can be imagined to permeate the scene. The dominant sensation that 363 illustrates this scene is auditory (cf. Berger 1984: 21). The description centers on the babbling of the spring, the cicadas chattering, the frog croaking, the birds singing, and the bees buzzing. Z+%0#J,"abuzz," (7.142) is a common epithet of bees, and can describe "color, movement, and sound" (Gow II 166). Most commentators prefer to read it here as auditory (ibid; Hunter 1999: 195). The linkage of sound and movement here may mirror that of the trees which rustle 364 above. It suffices to recall that it is possible to hear a winged insect without being able to see it, as when one hears a fly buzzing around a room and then must follow the sound to try to see and swat it. Many scholars have considered Bourina to foreshadow the lengthy locus amoenus that will serve as the climax of 362 the poem (Ott 1969: 146; Rosenmeyer 1969: 187; Krevans 1983: 210-211; Hunter 1999:192). Zanker (1980) distinguishes between the two locales as different historical places, but within the text the two scenes are clearly connected. The scent of "summer harvest" (7.143) probably refers to the scent of grain (Hunter 1999: 195). 363 Gow rules out the reading of the word as a color term by distinguishing it from the existing color term 364 Z+%0B*56$+(, "tawny-winged" (cf. Eur. Heracles 487-488: Z+%0B*56$+( / µ4&,33#). He also notes the use of Z+%0B( to refer to the sound of the nightingale in Theocritus' fourth epigram (Theoc. Epigr. 4.11; cf. Gow II 531). ! of ! 183 214 The sound of the frog and the cicadas, like that of the bees, takes precedence over their appearance. The frog remains unseen in the bracken and the distance that his croak travels ("from afar," 7.140) makes his invisibility more explicit. The cicadas, although they are the only 365 living thing that is described with a color term in this passage, also avoid sight. Their color makes them hard to see on the branches: "#)0#&'Q/6(, 'soot-colored' and therefore invisible on the 'shady boughs'" (Hunter 1999: 194). These cicadas recede from sight, just as they do 366 elsewhere in Theocritus: "the cicada, watching from above the shepherds in the midday sun, resounds in the branches of the trees" (5455,Z / *+,µ4/#( =/>'+%( *68%&#Iµ4/+( GTB0, >4/>$Q/ / H<6D =/ H-$6µB/633,/, 16.94-96). In this passage, the cicada assumes the role of viewer, while the sound which spreads through the branches of the trees makes his location imprecise. Anyone who has heard a chorus of crickets on a summer evening (let alone, cicadas on a Greek hillside on a hot afternoon) knows that the overlap of sounds can make them seem to be everywhere and nowhere. The chattering that the cicadas in Idyll 7 produce makes their location similarly hard to pin-point, and their appearance is equally unclear. The only element of the landscape that seems less tied to the non-visual senses are the fruits that close the scene. As with the poplars and elms that open the scene, the apples, pears, and sloe travel through space, and the space of that movement is delineated with respect to the revelers' bodies (cf. Ott 1969: 143). Unlike the rustling of the poplars and elms, these fruits do The word order places the verb among the nouns which designate the patch of brambles. The effect is to make 365 "the sound ... [emerge] from the centre of the thorn-thickets" (Hunter 1999: 194). This effect reinforces that the source of the sound remains hidden by the flora. The representation of cicadas on shady branches may not accord with the real behavior of the insects (cf. Gow II 366 164, who cites Aristotle HA 556a24: =/ I7$ 5+D( T%<$+D( +A I'/+/5#, 5455,I6(, >,. +A>? =/ 5+D( 3%3-'+,( @&363, "cicadas are not found in cold places, and so also not in well-shaded groves.") If the reader is meant to notice the oddness of the cicadas' presence in a place they would normally avoid, this may only serve to further emphasize the improbability of their being seen. ! of ! 184 214 not produce non-visual stimuli, but they remain largely devoid of visual content. No colors, light effects, or textures illustrate the fruit. One might note that both apples and pears have recently appeared in Simichidas' song (7.117, 120), where the apples are identified by the explicitly visual characteristic of their red hue. The scent of the fruit precedes this description (K3>6 367 >?V*s$#(, 7.143). And the "flowing" (=-4<%/5+, 7.145) of the sloe, which emphasizes its abundance, also echoes the plashing flow of the spring from earlier in the locus amoenus (7.136-37). Despite a few hints at the visual elements of the imagery in the locus amoenus, the passage almost entirely elides the visual. For a reader, this elision of vision is surprising both in the context of the poem and in the topos of the locus amoenus. This absence is significant if we consider this passage to be comparable with the ecphrases of Idylls 1 and 15, which clearly rely on visual representation, but it may be best to compare it with the locus amoenus of the "Hymn to the Dioscuri" (Id. 22.34-52), which is the only other extensive description of a natural landscape in Theocritus. These two passages are 368 identified as typical Theocritean loci amoeni by Curtius in his foundational study of this topos For the visual connotations of the pear in Simichidas' song, see above. 367 I exclude the spring of Theocritus' Hylas poem (13.39-42) because of its brevity. There is a notable visual effect, 368 however, cf. Hunter 1999: 277: "Hylas cannot (presumably) see these plants in the darkness, but we here listen to a description by the poet, not an account of what 'Hylas' sees." Hunter goes on to contrast the locus amoenus of Idyll 22, which is seen by the Dioscuri in the sunshine. ! of ! 185 214 (1948: 194-95). The locus of Idyll 22 begins by mentioning that Castor and Polydeuces survey 369 (026;µ6/+,) the wild wood (22.36). The locus of Idyll 7 offers no similar indication of how Simichidas and his friends first perceive the festival, noting only that they rejoice (I6I#0B56(, 7.134) as they recline. The first thing the Dioscuri find in their locus amoenus is a spring (22.37-40): 6}$+/ >? H4/#+/ -$O/2/ G*. &,331>, *45$P t>#5, *6*&20%D#/ H-2$15uM #E >? G*4/6$06/ &1&&#, -$%351&&u à>? H$I;$u )/>1&&+/5+ =- W%0+C. They found an ever-flowing spring filled with the purest water under a smooth rock, and the pebbles underneath shone like crystal or silver from the depths. The spring evokes a number of sensations. The smooth rock recalls touch, while the reference to water as "unmixed" uses a term which usually refers to the strength and taste of wine. The latter probably also evokes the water's clarity, since it is unmixed with mud and thus transparent. The visual characteristic of the water allows the Dioscuri to see the most striking feature of the spring: the stones which sparkle at its bottom. The pebbles appear like two impressive artistic 370 The first 13 lines of Idyll 1 are also mentioned by Curtius (1948: 195) and might be considered comparable. This 369 passage includes a "pine whispering among the springs" (1.1-2), water plashing on rocks (1.8), and a knoll and tamarisks (1.13). This fits Curtius' minimum requirements for a locus amoenus: it must have a tree (or trees), a meadow, and a fount or brook (Curtius 1948: 200), but there are several reasons that it is less useful as a comparison with Idyll 7. While the loci amoeni of Idyll 22 and Idyll 7 are narrated continually (in the third and first person, respectively), the description in Idyll 1 is part of a dialogue. Although Id. 1.1-13 displays some features of the locus amoenus, its images are employed rhetorically by the herdsmen in the poem. These lines favor aural over visual sensation, but this preference is easy to trace, since the herdsmen are explicitly commenting on each other's musical talents. The locus amoenus of Idyll 1 also lacks the density of natural features--only 6 in 13 lines versus almost 20 in the 16 lines of Idyll 7. Even the locus amoenus of Idyll 22, 10 of whose lines are taken up by the description of Amycus, depicts 10 natural features in the other 7 lines. The locus amoenus of Idyll 1 is not the same kind of set- piece that we find in Idyll 7 and 22. Line 39 has been a source of debate because the manuscripts all read @&&#,, which was amended to &1&&#, by 370 Ruhnken (cf. White 1980: 53-60). I follow the reading of Gow and Sens. As Sens notes, the semantics of &1&&#, also evoke the sound of the spring (1997: 107). ! of ! 186 214 materials. The verb )/>1&&+/5+ generally describes a visual appearance in Homer and 371 emphasizes the visual likeness between the pebbles and the crystal and silver. As Sens notes, 372 =- W%0+C also emphasizes the spring's appearance, "[underscoring] the water's clarity: the pebbles can be seen all the way from the depths" (1997: 108). This extensive catalog of visual characteristics contrasts with the spring in Idyll 7 which is described only as babbling (7.137). The rest of the locus in Idyll 22 features "lofty pines" (GT2&#J ... *6C-#,, 22.40) "high-tufted cypresses" (H-$B-+µ+, -%*1$,33+,, 22.41) and "fuzzy bees" (&#3'#,( ... µ6&'33#,(, 22.42). Each of these descriptions uses a spatial or textural dimension to illustrate what Castor and Polydeuces see. The last in particular should probably be read as visual, since the tactile experience of the fuzziness of a bee is often accompanied by the unpleasant pain of its sting. The close of the locus amoenus introduces Amycus who is called "terrible to look upon" (>6,/.( )>6D/, 22.45) and is described in precise visual detail using naturalistic terms (see Chapter 1). All in all, the locus 373 amoenus of Idyll 22 is described almost exclusively in visual terms. This comparison between the loci amoeni of Idylls 7 and 22 has shown that there is something unusual about the locus amoenus of Idyll 7. This type-scene relies upon "observation" (Anshauung, Curtius 1948: 195). If we recognize this appeal to vision as a 374 For -$%351&&+( as "crystal" rather than "ice," cf. Sens 1997: 107-108. Gow notes that this would be the first 371 attestation of that meaning for this word (II 389). Cf. Hom. Hymn 5. 178-79: -#J 8$13#,, 6L 5+, nµ+'2 =Id/ )/>1&&+µ#, 6R/#,, / +`2/ >O µ6 5. *$c5+/ =/ V80#&µ+D3, 372 /B23#( "and judge whether I appear the same to you as when you first saw me with your eyes;" Od. 19.224: #A51$ 5+, =$4Q ë( µ+, )/>1&&65#, l5+$ "but I will tell you how he appears to me in my mind;" Il. 23.460: @&&+( >? y/'+<+( )/>1&&65#, "at another point the charioteer appeared." For )/>#&&430#, with a dative meaning "appear like," cf. Plato Res Pub. 381e (Sens 1997: 108). Some scholars might distinguish the description of Amycus from the locus amoenus proper. The inclusion of 373 these lines is not necessary to indicate the visual focus of the passage, but as Sens has noted, the Dioscuri encounter Amycus "in the midst of the locus amoenus" (1997: 111). cf. the "visual wealth" (schaubarer Fülle) of Theocritus' loci amoeni (Curtius 1948: 196). 374 ! of ! 187 214 convention of the topos of the locus amoenus, the avoidance of vision in the locus of Idyll 7 becomes unusual. phe preceding analysis of this poem, however, has shown that this avoidance of vision is not at all unusual for this poem. Like Simichidas' address to Aratus, which immediately precedes it, the locus amoenus avoids vision. Like the description of Lycidas and of Philinus' faded bloom, the locus offers no definite visual signs and only allows the reader to access its imagery through the non-visual senses. Given the explicit references to vision in the beginning of the poem (the sêma of Brasilas, Lycidas' appearance), it is difficult to overlook the near systematic elision of vision in its conclusion. More importantly, the locus amoenus confirms our reading of the winnowing-shovel, which is technically part of the description of the locus amoenus. Both the shovel and the landscape of which it is part encourage a reader to question 375 his imagined perception and its relation to the interpretation of the poem. 376 This reading of the locus amoenus accords with previous scholarship on this poem, which frequently draws attention to the importance of semiotics. Goldhill's deconstructive reading in 377 particular explores (1991: 226): the combination of precision and blurring of the marks of placement and recognition... repeated at key junctures of the poem and [bearing] significantly on the programmatic construction of the poet's voice. The images of lines 148-157 stand out from the locus amoenus because they are less strictly about the perception 375 of the space and more rhetorical and evocative of feelings (cf. Walsh 1985: 16-17). Nevertheless, these lines are still part of the description of the festival. Berger offers a similar reading of the locus amoenus, which focuses on the passage's metaphors of poetic 376 composition and concludes that it reveals Simichidas' failure as a narrator (1984: 22-23). For my reading of the metapoetic references, see below. Perhaps the most complete semiotic reading of the poem is Segal 1981: 110-166, but many readings of the poem 377 focus on the signification of Lycidas (see above). Krevans (1983) notices a signifying system in the geographical references within the text, but as far as I can tell, I am the first to consider the semiotics of the poetic landscape as a complete system in itself. ! of ! 188 214 We should take particular note of the synesthetic nature of this reading, since the deconstructive metaphor mixes visual and auditory senses, shifting from the blurring of vision to the polyphony of the poet's voice. In making this shift, Goldhill actually reproduces precisely the elision of 378 vision with auditory perception which occurs in the locus amoenus and the description of Philinus' faded beauty. Like Goldhill, most critics focus on the perspective of the "author" or narrator, but avoid asking what this poem means for a reader. Goldhill doesn't ask this question 379 because his definition of poetics focuses on the relationship between an author and his text rather than between a reader and the text (cf. Goldhill 1991: 223-225). So the question remains: how does the locus amoenus affect the reader? To illustrate this, let us return to the comparison with Idyll 22. Although both poems focalize a locus amoenus through the perception of characters, the reader experiences these two passages in very different ways. In Idyll 22, the Dioscuri observe the locus amoenus from outside, while Amycus basks in the sun and seems to be enjoying the place despite his menacing appearance. Because they are outside the space, they can only see it; sounds, scents, textures, and tastes are not perceptible at such a distance. But their vision is also thematically relevant to the poem. The gaze of the divine twins upon the space and its inhabitant foreshadows their introduction of Greek culture--in the form of xenia--to Bebrycia (see Chapter 1). Simichidas and his friends witness their locus amoenus from a perspective more like Amycus' than like that of Castor and Polydeuces. Within the locus amoenus of Idyll 7, as Simichidas and his friends experience it, vision is not necessary. Furthermore, the kinds of social distinctions that vision delineates in Idyll 22, and elsewhere in Theocritus, are not important in this space. But for The study is titled "Framing, Polyphony, and Desire: Theocritus and Hellenistic Poetics," and appears in a book 378 called The Poet's V oice. Cf. Payne 2007: 138: "Who is the 'I' who speaks to us from this poem, and what kind of life story is he telling 379 us?" ! of ! 189 214 a reader, who is outside the text and thus outside the locus amoenus, this passage encourages reflection about her own role with respect to the text, despite, or because of, the absence of vision. A reader, for whom the locus amoenus of Idyll 7 is focalized by Simichidas, in some sense experiences this space from the inside by virtue of this perspective, but frequent metapoetic references interrupt the description and remind the reader that she is in fact an observer outside of the poem, i.e. that she is reading. Metapoetic references pervade the locus amoenus. The cicadas chirping are a common symbol of poetic composition and their 380 "labor" (*B/+(, 7.139) also evokes a familiar metaphor for poetic creation in Alexandrian poetry. The buzzing bees (7.141) are also familiar symbols of poetic creation, as Lycidas' own 381 song attests (7.80-82). The plashing spring (7.136-37) recalls the plashing spring which Thyrsis' singing is compared to in Idyll 1 (1.7-8; cf. Hunter 1999: 193). Similarly, the murmuring of the poplars and elms (7.135-136) resembles the whispering of the pine from Idyll 1 which is compared with the goatherd's musical skill on the pipe (1.1-3). Payne notes that the metapoetic and technical vocabulary used to create this veristic picture of nature encourages the reader to rethink the identity of the narrator (2007: 132-134), but given the passage's tight focalization of its imagery and the immediacy of its presentation, the reader might also reflect on her own role. The reader of the locus amoenus is continually confronted with symbols of poetic composition which remind her of the literariness of the text and remind her that she is reading. This rupture in the continuity of the fiction makes a reader recognize that she is outside the text and outside the The following catalogue is closely modeled on Lawall 1967: 102-106, who explains each of the metapoetic 380 references more completely. Cf. 7.50-1: U$2, 8'&+(, 6L 5+, H$43-6,, 5+C0? U5, *$z/ =/ b$6, 5. µ6&B>$,+/ =Z6*B/#3# "See, friend, if this little 381 song that I worked out earlier on the mountain pleases you." ! of ! 190 214 locus amoenus, looking in on Simichidas and his friends. The distance that these metapoetic references create between the reader and the text, because they remind her that she is reading a text and interrupt her imagination of the narrative, may permit her to recognize the strange lack of vision in the text. The rich catalog of senses and spatial markers in the locus amoenus draws the reader into the text, while the metapoetic references place the reader outside of it. 382 The planting of the winnowing-shovel serves as a similar spur for reflection, but this allusive symbol encourages the reader to reflect on and reinterpret the text. Theocritus' winnowing-shovel is a sign, but it also points to signification itself. As the body of the poem makes clear, the relationship between vision and signification is a fraught one, not only in cases of social vision, but in all acts of interpretation. A reader may have reached some definite conclusion about one of the many ambiguous elements of the poem, e.g. the identity of Lycidas, but the symbol of uncertainty that closes the poem encourages her to reconsider the definiteness of her conclusion. The poem "deliberately leaves certain ambiguities unresolved" (Krevans 1983: 219), and the winnowing-shovel is the mark that certifies the deliberateness of this ambiguity. This poem distances itself from the kind of social vision found frequently in Theocritus and it distances itself from confidence in vision in general. The reader of this poem witnesses the limitation of vision as a means of interpretation and as a means of experience. Many before have noted that Idyll 7 is a poem about the fictional presence of an idealized world. This presence is 383 achieved primarily through the narration of sensory perception. But to truly perceive this In Iser's terms (see above), these are two types of indeterminacy that invite the reader to experience the text in 382 different and conflicting ways. Bulloch says that the poem is "placed wholly in the realm of the imagination" (2016: 51). Cf. Payne 2007: 117: 383 "Lycidas thus inspires Simichidas with the same desire to project a world of bucolic characters to which he can aspire in his imagination that animates his own psychic life [sic]." ! of ! 191 214 fictional presence, a reader must abandon her vision, since Idyll 7 reveals that vision is the most untrustworthy of senses. 3. Conclusion Idyll 7 differs from the other poems I have studied in the many ways it questions and refuses vision, but it also presents a familiar sentiment. Several other poems question the social role or process of vision. The goatherd of Idyll 3 tries to get Amaryllis to look at him or to look at her, but this attempt fails. On the one hand, it fails because of the goatherd's ravings, but on the other hand, perhaps Amaryllis cannot see at all. Although he claims to have spoken to her before (3.10-11), she may be a figment of his imagination (Gutzwiller 1991: 118-19; Hunter 1999: 113) or an inanimate statue (cf. 3.18, on her stone-like skin; Hunter 1999: 116). Polyphemus' serenade of the absent Galatea may be a similar fantasy, as his reference to her appearance in his dreams suggests (cf. 11.22-24 and Hunter 1999: 231-32). Polyphemus' choice not to look at Galatea in Idyll 6 and his evaluation of his own appearance as beautiful also question his ability to understand the reality of his situation. In those poems, the reader witnesses characters whose use of social vision is challenged or questioned in some way, but in Idyll 7 the reader experiences the questioning of vision as a part of the text. The identity of Lycidas cannot be deduced from vision alone. The poem avoids using vision to represent the scene of the festival. And the vow to plant a winnowing-shovel recalls a scenario in which meaning is relative, in which different viewers have different names for what they see. Such relativity requires one to reflect on his own 384 perspective and compare it with that of others. This relativity is strengthened by reference both to Odysseus' inland journey, in which a stranger has a different 384 name for Odysseus' oar, and the tomb of Elpenor, which calls the meaning of Odysseus' oar into question for the reader. ! of ! 192 214 This text shares its questioning of vision with Idyll 26. There, Agave's lion-like roar replaces the hallucination which causes her to see Pentheus' head as that of a lion in Euripides; a visual sign becomes an auditory one. The conflicts which arise in these poems actually resemble one that which we have discussed in the first chapter. In Idyll 22, Polydeuces and Amycus fight over the right to assert identities in either verbal or visual terms. Amycus makes use of vision to assert his physical dominance, while Polydeuces tries to engage in the verbal exchanges of heroic identification. The battle ends with Polydeuces' victory and the re-incorporation of visual identity into the verbal schemas of Greek culture. The poems in this chapter attempt to rearticulate the division between vision and cognition that Amycus and Polydeuces temporarily attain. In doing so, they also question the fixity of social identities. The reader of Idyll 26, if he parses that poem's complex intertextual relationship with the Bacchae, must perform the act of self-reflection that Agave does not. Idyll 7 encourages reflection on the relationship between vision and signification itself. In the end, even the identity of Simichidas' winnowing-shovel is uncertain. Another shared trait of these two poems is the emphasis they put on reading. The kinds of textual relations they evoke are only possible for one who has close familiarity with a text. It has been noted that Hellenistic poets participate in a culture of reading and writing (Goldhill 1991: 224-25; Hunter 1996: 3-5), but the allusions we have studied in this chapter both make use of reading and call this act into question. These poems simultaneously reflect upon the act of reading--especially its use of vision to parse signs--and question what reading produces. The allusion to Agave's recognition in Idyll 26 and the locus amoenus of Idyll 7 encourage a reader to only reflect back upon herself in the act of reading. The importance of sound in each of these ! of ! 193 214 passages may also remind us that written words remain silent until they are read. This elision 385 of vision with sound may be a subtle evocation of Plato's valuing of spoken over written discourse, but it may have a further significance in Ptolemaic Alexandria. Theocritus and his 386 ideal audience clearly would have access to a massive range of texts, but when not in use, those texts remained lifelessly on the shelf. By encouraging his readers' self-reflection upon the act of reading, Theocritus incorporates this act and its significance into his fictional landscape, while also making clear that readers should not trust all that they see. This metaphorical use of "silent" is not meant to deny the possibility of silent reading in antiquity. Cf. Knox 1968 385 421-22: "Are we really to imagine that Aristarchus read aloud all of the manuscripts of Homer he used for his edition? That Callimachus read aloud all the works from which he compiled his 120 volumes of the Pinakes?" The influence of Plato's Phaedrus on Idyll 7 has been studied by Hunter 1999: 45-46 and 2003: 233-34. 386 ! of ! 194 214 CONCLUSION In the introduction to this study, I discussed the works of Theocritus' contemporaries, Callimachus, Aratus, and Apollonius of Rhodes. In those poems, vision was associated with power: the magic power of Medea and the superhuman power of divination. Power remains an important aspect of vision in Theocritus, although this power often exists in interpersonal contexts which only evoke the larger world obliquely if at all. These interpersonal acts of vision reveal negotiations of power that exist on a smaller scale, and suggest that a multiplicity of smaller power relationships come into existence whenever two or more people see each other. The goatherd of Idyll 1, who describes his cup as #)*+&,-./ 012µ# "a goatherd's wonder" (1.56), uses this description of the cup to frame goatherds as privileged artistic viewers (see chapter 2). Implicit in this framing is an attempt to elevate his own status in the presence of the poet, Thyrsis. Although the poem hints at a larger world--the goatherd has encountered a Calydnaean ferryman (1.57), while Thyrsis is from Aetna (1.65)--the negotiation of power that the goatherd initiates is resolved within the pastoral milieu of the poem itself. Thyrsis counters the goatherd's positive image of goatherds' vision with a negative image of a goatherd gazing lustfully at his flock. The goatherd does not respond directly to Thyrsis' alternative formulation of goatherds' vision and even seems to subtly confirm it (see Chapter 2). The poem acknowledges the broader social world in which Thyrsis holds power because of his role as poet; the goatherd's attempt 387 to associate his own viewing position with power fails. Unlike the goatherd's claim to artistic talent, both Thyrsis and the goatherd acknowledge Thyrsis' prestige as a 387 poet. The goatherd recalls Thyrsis' participation in a singing contest (Id. 1.24), while Thyrsis evokes his own poetic authority by marking his song with a sphragis (1.65; cf. Hunter 1999: 87). ! of ! 195 214 When Theocritus does undertake to explore larger systems of power and the institutions that construct them, he refrains from representing these systems as absolute or totalizing. In Idyll 22, Amycus seems ready for a fight from the moment he first addresses the "men [he] has not seen before" (22.55). Amycus' world is a stark one in which perception and physical violence are the primary means of interacting with others. Polydeuces' victory and clemency not only challenge this worldview, but also force Amycus to accept his subjugated place within a Greek heroic world of power which is governed by social institutions such as xenia. Apollonius' version of the Amycus story does not differentiate the social worlds of the two fighters so clearly, since in that text Polydeuces and the Argonauts kill Amycus and his men after the match. In Apollonius, Polydeuces accepts physical violence as the primary social force that governs his interaction with the barbarian king. Theocritus' version of this story, despite its parochial 388 message, suggests that ideals, not violence, are the ultimate arbiter of social superiority. Both the familiar binary of Greek/non-Greek in Idyll 22 and the ad hoc contrast between different formulations of goatherds' vision in Idyll 1 evoke the kinds of negotiation that people encounter every day in their social interactions. This negotiation utilizes both perception--of a person and the roles they fit into based on their appearance--and performance--of identities or roles. These aspects of vision in Theocritus may constitute the author's reflections on the social world that he encountered in Ptolemaic Alexandria. Although the social history of this period can be reconstructed from documentary sources, some areas of history remain difficult to reconstruct. The killing of Amycus also results in the Argonauts' favorable reception when they reach the land of the 388 Mariandynians (Arg. 2.752-61). The Mariandynian king, Lycus, dedicates a temple to the Dioscuri on the Acherousian Cape, which foreshadows the Greek colonization of this land (2.792-810; cf. Thalmann 2011: 101-107). Two points are relevant for our purposes. First, this episode further validates Polydeuces' decision to kill Amycus. Second, this episode associates the defeat of Amycus with the peaceful subordination of a barbarian land, like Idyll 22, but only indirectly. ! of ! 196 214 Documentary papyri and inscriptions are so rooted in the formal institutions of administration, that they may not reveal more personal forms of identification. As one scholar has noted (McCoskey 2002: 22): our modern ability to reconstruct Ptolemaic social practice as it related to social power and identity is circumscribed by the very real necessity that the written record of that act hold some significance in its original context... in relying so heavily on textual material, we lose the ability to witness any visual markers of identity unless they are explicitly mentioned in the texts... since such documents are often produced with regard to a particular function or to produce a specific outcome (e.g., win a legal proceeding), it is dangerous to assume that the participants in the documents would necessarily represent themselves the same way in other contexts, i.e., that the identities produced in formal contexts directly correlate to identities claimed in other social domains. McCoskey's qualification of the papyrological evidence helps frame both the benefits and limitations of the current study. Theocritus' focus on vision suggests that the author is concerned with precisely the type of visual identification which the papyri cannot reveal. This does not mean that Theocritus offers us definite historical data about visual identity, but his literary preoccupation with vision suggests that he and his audience recognized its importance and were interested in how it functioned. Theocritus offers a variety of fictionalized social contexts in which to frame vision, but because of their fictionality these scenes reveal the "how" and the "why" of social vision rather than the "what," i.e. concrete evidence about historical people. Perhaps the most important function of vision in Theocritus is to identify individuals and delineate their social influence. The goatherd in Idyll 3 begs Amaryllis to look at him in the hope that his appearance will rouse erotic feelings in her. For the Greeks, erôs always involved imbalances or "asymmetries" of power (Calame 1999: 23-29). But the goatherd's attempt to tilt 389 the power in his direction is countered by her absence. She never appears, and this absence both For an important critique of this reading of Greek erôs, cf. Greene 1996. 389 ! of ! 197 214 gives her control and defuses the erotic potential of the situation. In Idyll 6, Polyphemus withholds his gaze for precisely the same reason, to gain erotic control. This type of erotic power imbalance is not unique to Theocritus (cf. Calame 2016), but the Theocritean corpus does offer us a surprising range of different contexts in which vision is used to assert social power. The erotic strategies of the goatherd and Polyphemus have a cognate in the goatherd of Idyll 1, who uses vision to claim artistic power, and the foreigner who uses vision to threaten Greeks, i.e. assert his bodily power, in Idyll 22. The failures of the viewers in these poems also serves as a warning to those who naively accept their own perspective as accurate or unquestionable. The goatherd of Idyll 1, Amycus in Idyll 22, and Polyphemus in Idyll 6 all reveals the limitations of their perspectives. They boldly try to assert their perspectives as "real" without attending to the contexts in which these perspectives arise. The social worlds that Theocritus creates in his poetry are not populated only by the characters in the poems. The reader is also invited into the text as participant in this social drama of vision. The fight narratives of Idyll 22 describe the movements of the fighters in exacting spatial and bodily detail. These descriptions allow a reader to precisely envision what the text describes. The text also draws attention to viewing audiences which focalize the fight narratives, and it is hard to imagine the audience of the poem not identifying with the Greeks in the Polydeuces narrative. Amycus demonstrates a formulation of vision that refuses to see in Greek terms and he is punished for this. The Castor narrative, however, challenges the moral of the earlier story by distancing itself from the easy binaries of Greek and other. Similarly, Polyphemus in Idyll 11 is explicitly presented as an exemplum for the poem's intended reader, Nicias (11.2). This poem allows the reader to see through Polyphemus' eye and to witness ! of ! 198 214 Polyphemus attempting to understand Galatea's perspective. Like Amycus, Polyphemus' failure is foreshadowed by his vision (which we know he will lose at the hands of Odysseus). The ghost of his nemesis (whose narration of Odyssey 9 frames him as monster) haunts the poem and undermines his peaceful, pathetic love song. The audience of Idyll 1 gets to witness the goatherd's attempt to claim prestige and his bumbling response to Thyrsis' song. Figures like the goatherds in Idylls 1 and 3 and Polyphemus in Idylls 6 and 11 clearly seem to offer cautionary tales. The Polyphemus of Idyll 6 in particular offers a warning about overvaluing one's own perception. A few poems use the reader's role as viewer to reflect back on social vision itself. Idyll 7 highlights the role vision plays in delineating both identity and space. The representations of vision in this poem, however, draw more attention to the indeterminacies of interpretation than to any particular mode of perception. Lycidas, whose appearance is described in detail, remains a cipher which can be interpreted many different ways. Is he a god in disguise? Perhaps, but which god in particular is never made clear. There is no epiphany. Instead, Simichidas' vision, with which he identifies Lycidas, is called into question, and Simichidas himself does not use his vision again after Lycidas exits the poem, despite the fact that he finds himself in the most visual of locales, a locus amoenus. The reader, who has been seeing through Simichidas' eyes, is left to supply her own interpretation and to question the role of vision in producing interpretations generally. The poem closes with an object that alludes to a similar difficulty: the "winnowing- shovel" of Odysseus, which is what a stranger mistakenly calls his oar. While the wayfarer's famous misrecognition of Odysseus' oar draws attention to the relativity of language, Lycidas, ! of ! 199 214 himself a wayfarer (V>'5#/, 7.11), draws attention to the relativity of appearances in determining identity. This reading of Theocritus has proposed that his poems are not only cognizant of social dynamics but seek to analyze and question those dynamics. For centuries Theocritus has been associated with pastoral escapism, but we find that even his fictional pastoral works refer to social vision and invite a reader to reflect on it. This socially-conscious reading of Theocritus shows how he is unique among Hellenistic poets for his careful, nuanced attention to social vision, and yet he is also participating in the kind of social critique that Callimachus (e.g. Selden 1998) and Apollonius (e.g. Thalmann 2011) perform through different literary methods. As with his literary peers, Theocritus' interest in contemporary social issues is easily recognizable to those who look for it, but has often been missed by his readers. By making this aspect of his poetry visible, I hope to have given new life to this important poet. ! of ! 200 214 BIBLIOGRAPHY Acosta-Hughes, B. 2006. "Bucolic Singers of the Short Song: Lyric and Elegaic Resonances in Theocritus' Bucolic Idylls." In Fantuzzi, M. and Papanghelis, T. eds. Brill's Companion to Greek and Latin Pastoral. Leiden: Brill: 25-52. Alexie, S. 1993. The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. New York: HarperCollins. Arendt, H. 1958. The Human Condition. 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Abstract (if available)

Abstract The poems of Theocritus are small-scale dramatizations of social interactions. The characters in these poems engage in realistic social interactions, despite being fictional, mythical, or even stereotypical. Previous studies of Theocritus often draw attention to the ways that Theocritus' characters express themselves and evoke ideas about poetic authorship or various aspects of pastoral idealism. These poems also show a surprising interest in the way vision governs interpersonal relationships. Vision is a significant theme in other Greek poems of the early third century, including Aratus' Phaenomena and Callimachus' Bath of Pallas. Theocritus stands apart from these other poets because he explores the interpersonal dimensions of vision and contemplates the social forces which separate people into social groups. Characters use vision to identify themselves and others. Ancient optics provides two models of vision: intramissive and extromissive, which might generally be classed as passive and active vision. Theocritus' poems show a similar interest in passive vision, or perception of others, and active vision, or performative gazes. These two dimensions of vision reveal the many ways in which identity is contingent upon what is seen. The reader of Theocritus is also invited to participate in the social drama of the text. Several poems create space to reflect on the reader's own role in producing the social interactions that these texts depict. The reader's visual imagination gives rise to Theocritus' fictional social worlds, but these poems also encourage a reader to contemplate both the literary and visual dimensions of reading. Far from espousing pastoral escapism, Theocritus' poems reflect on the immediacy of poetic experience and the pervasiveness of the social world.

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Creator Chaldekas, Matthew (author)

Core Title Vision in Theocritus: perception, performance, poetics

School College of Letters, Arts and Sciences

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Classics

Publication Date 05/31/2019

Defense Date 04/12/2017

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag eros,Ethnicity,Gaze,Greek poetry,Hellenistic poetry,OAI-PMH Harvest,Ptolemaic Egypt

Language English

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Advisor Thalmann, William G. (committee chair), Boyle, Anthony J. (committee member), Fischer-Bovet, Christelle (committee member), James, Heather (committee member)

Creator Email chaldeka@gmail.com,chaldeka@usc.edu

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