Lament Scenes in Xenophon of Ephesus: a Study in Self-Fashioning

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Lament Scenes in Xenophon of Ephesus: A Study in Self-Fashioning

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Authors Nelson, Nicholas Paul

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Link to Item http://hdl.handle.net/10150/642032 LAMENT SCENES IN XENOPHON OF EPHESUS: A STUDY IN SELF-FASHIONING

by Nicholas P. Nelson

A Thesis Submitted to the Faculty of the DEPARTMENT OF RELIGIOUS STUDIES AND CLASSICS

In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements For the Degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

In the Graduate College

THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA 2020

THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA GRADUATE COLLEGE

As members of the Master’s Committee, we certify that we have read the thesis prepared by Nicholas Nelson, titled Lament Scenes in Xenophon of Ephesus: A Study in Self-Fashioning and recommend that it be accepted as fulfilling the thesis requirement for the Master’s Degree.

______Date: ______06-30-2020 Robert Groves

______Date: ______6/30/2020 David Christenson

______Date: ______06/30/2020 Arum Park

Final approval and acceptance of this thesis is contingent upon the candidate’s submission of the final copies of the thesis to the Graduate College.

We hereby certify that we have read this thesis prepared under our direction and recommend that it be accepted as fulfilling the Master’s requirement.

______Date: ______06/30/2020 Robert Groves Master’s Thesis Committee Co-Chair Department of Religious Studies and Classics

______Date: ______6/30/2020 David Christenson Master’s Thesis Committee Co-Chair Department of Religious Studies and Classics

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... 4 Chapter 1: Introduction ...... 6 Xenophon of Ephesus ...... 7 Theon’s Discussion of Character Types as Evidence for Social Antitheses ...... 10 Characterization and Self-Fashioning in the Greek Novel ...... 12 Sophrosyne ...... 17 Lament and Identity ...... 18 Lament and Genre ...... 18 Gender and Tragic Lamentation ...... 21 Overview of Chapters ...... 23 Chapter 2: “ἀεί σε θρηνῶν”: Self-Fashioning in Habrocomes’ Lament Scenes ...... 25 Habrocomes’ Self-Fashioning against Eros ...... 25 Habrocomes’ Changing Definitions of sophrosyne ...... 30 “A Whore Instead of a Man”: Habrocomes’ Masculine Desire for sophrosyne ...... 33 Slavery vs. Freedom...... 35 Finding Anthia: Self-Fashioning through Suffering ...... 37 Chapter 3: τί ταῦτα θρηνῶ: Anthia’s Self-Fashioning in Lament Scenes ...... 43 Taking Initiative: Anthia’s Self-Fashioning at the Beginning of the Novel ...... 44 Protecting Sophrosyne: Her New Purpose ...... 46 servitium amoris vs. Literal Slavery ...... 49 Οὐχ οὕτως ἄνανδρος ἐγώ: Anthia’s Self-Fashioning to Avoid Re-marriage ...... 51 Resisting Pirates: Anthia’s Self-Fashioning to Protect Her Sophrosyne...... 56 Hippothous’ Passion for Anthia: The Resolution ...... 57 Conclusion ...... 61 Abbreviations ...... 63 Works Cited ...... 64

Abstract

Scholars often exclude Xenophon’s Ephesiaca from consideration with texts of the so- called Second Sophistic due to its style. Recent scholarship, especially by Whitmarsh (2001,

2005, 2011), sees a concern with identity to be an important characteristic of Imperial Greek literature. This thesis analyzes the protagonists’ lament scenes of Xenophon’s Ephesiaca in order to see how Anthia and Habrocomes define their identities and interrogate different facets of their identities. Aelius Theon (Prog. 115–6) provides a useful discussion of different character types which delineates different social antitheses: old men and young men, men and women, slaves and freed people, and people in love and those who have sophrosyne. Habrocomes and Anthia interrogate where they stands in relation to these different strands throughout the novel.

Habrocomes defines himself in relation to these various character types frequently in his lament scenes. At 1.4. 1–3, he views himself as being in a military contest with Eros and views his loss in this metaphorical battle as a loss of masculinity, thus defining himself with respect to

Aelius Theon’s category of men and women. At 1.4. 4–5 he defines scorning Eros as sophrosyne, thus showing himself to prefer a definition of sophrosyne that is closer to

Hippolytus’ than is usually seen in the Greek novel. Throughout the rest of Book 1, where

Habrocomes defines sophrosyne on his wedding night and in the oath scene, his definition of sophrosyne becomes gradually closer to the one usually seen in the Greek novel. At 2.1.2–4 he argues that if he were to submit to Corymbus he would be a “whore instead of a man,” which further defines his sophrosyne as an integral part of his masculinity. At 2.4.3–5 Habrocomes defines himself in terms of being a slave vs. a freed person and states that although his body is enslaved, his soul is free. After he is freed, for the rest of the novel, he does not truly view himself as free until he is reunited with Anthia. 4

Anthia’s lament scenes often consist of her finding mechanai to protect her sophrosyne from various pirates and others who fall in love with her. At 1.4.6–7, Anthia laments that

Habrocomes does not love her, then she asks a series of rhetorical questions which interrogate how she can make this happen anyway. On her wedding night, she chides Habrocomes for her lack of andreia and takes the initiative in erotic matters. Throughout her lament scenes, Anthia often views sophrosyne as something that she cannot live without and she contemplates suicide as an alternative. Her lament scenes help her construct her sophrosyne and help her remember the reasons why she is being faithful to Habrocomes. In order to protect her sophrosyne, Anthia often must act like a clever slave. For example, she steals money from Perilaus in order to pay

Eudoxus to make the poison (3.5.9). Nevertheless, she is able to protect her sophrosyne, and her lament scenes often provide her with the mental resolve needed to defend herself.

This thesis demonstrates that the lament scenes are important and integral parts of

Xenophon’s novel which help characterize Anthia and Habrocomes. The lament scenes also demonstrate that Xenophon is aware of principles of characterization which come from Theon’s progymnasmata or a similar treatise. Thus Xenophon should be seen as more of a sophistical writer than is usually supposed.

Chapter 1: Introduction

In the study of Imperial Greek literature and in the study of the Greek novel, scholars have noted that there is evidence for an increasing interest in selfhood and identity.1 Xenophon’s

Ephesiaca, because it has been seen traditionally as “pre-sophistic” and thus bereft of the stylistic and thematic concerns of the “Second Sophistic,” is often seen as lacking this interest in identity. But the lament scenes in Xenophon’s novel, since they provide a window into the emotions and identity politics of their characters, show concern with the self and identity consistent with that of other works of Imperial Greek literature.

In the Imperial period the idea of the self is constantly scrutinized. Epideictic oratory, in the so-called Second Sophistic, was a way for Greek elites to define themselves in relation to the

Greek past. Epideictic oratory, literally produced for the orators to “show off” (ἐπιδείκνυμι) how

Greek they are, is thus a good place to look for different conceptions of the self. The elite male had to dress and act a certain way, using just the right words and actions, to prove that he had the education (paideia) to be an elite adult male, and that he was able to use the language of

Demosthenes and the other Attic orators properly.2 Imperial Greek culture was a performative culture and how well one could conform to the ideals of the Greek past was a measure of how educated and manly you were.

The Greek novel was written during this same period and shares similar concerns with identity. Most of the novels include ample quotations from Homer or the Tragedians, thus partaking in this Second Sophistic Greek culture, by using quotations of the Greek past to discuss

1 For bibliography, see “Characterization and Self-Fashioning” later in this chapter. 2 Gleason 1995 analyzes how dress and oratorical delivery demonstrate masculinity in Imperial Greek culture. 6 contemporary concerns of Greek identity.3 The Greek novels have traditionally been divided into two groups: “Sophistic” (Longus, Achilles Tatius, and Heliodorus), and “Pre-Sophistic”

(Chariton, and Xenophon of Ephesus) (Perry 1967: 108–24). The name implies that the Pre-

Sophistic novels are not part of the culture of the Second Sophistic. More recently, Tilg has analyzed Chariton and notes intertextual engagement with a variety of authors (2010), which suggests that Chariton also should be considered more “sophistical” than is apparent at first glance. Thus, Xenophon’s novel, alone of the five, is usually not seen as partaking in these same concerns of Imperial Greek literature, namely, of rhetoric and of self-identity. In this thesis, I argue that Xenophon’s novel does interrogate questions of identity which were commonly discussed in Imperial Greek literature and it articulates this concern through lament scenes, which are among the more rhetorically-constructed parts of a novel that is, at first glance, devoid of rhetorical sophistication.

Xenophon of Ephesus

In the past, there has been considerable debate about whether the text which we have of

Xenophon of Ephesus4 is an original or an epitome. Bürger in 1892 proposed that the text we have of Xenophon of Ephesus is an epitome, based on the Suda’s report of the novel’s ten books

3 Whitmarsh 2011 analyzes the genre of the Greek novel’s concern with identity. 4 For Xenophon of Ephesus, various dates in the first four centuries CE have been proposed. Central is the debate whether Xenophon is to be dated earlier than Chariton. See O’Sullivan 1995:145–70 for further discussion, arguing that Xenophon is earlier. Tilg 2010: 85–92 argues that Xenophon borrows from Chariton, even suggesting that the Ephesiaca could be later than Achilles Tatius and Heliodorus. Anderson’s notes to his translation of 1.14 suggests that the death scene of the paedagogus imitates Char. 3. 5 (2008: 137). For my purpose, it suffices to say that Xenophon of Ephesus was likely writing sometime in the first two centuries CE (I am unconvinced by Tilg’s suggestion of a late date) and probably earlier in that range. 7

(O’Sullivan 2005 Testimonium).5 While there are still some who hold this theory (most notably

Bowie 1999: 48),6 this has become less common since Hägg’s refutation of Bürger’s theory

(translated and reprinted as 2004a). O’Sullivan offers a further detailed critique of the epitome theory and argues that Xenophon’s inconsistencies are due to oral composition (1994: 100–39).

Tagliabue offers a detailed critique in the last chapter of his monograph on Xenophon’s novel, in which he argues that the epitome theory’s “acceptance would make the Ephesiaca a text by an artistically competent epitomizer, and such a well-thought epitome has no parallel among the extant epitomes of ancient Greek and Latin literary works” (2017: 202). The fact that the epitomes we have from the ancient world are not of very high quality, e.g. the pseudo-Lucianic

Ass, makes the epitome theory unlikely. I am unconvinced by the epitome theory, but whether one reads the novel’s rhetoric as due to Xenophon or that of the epitomist makes little difference to my argument.

The prevailing scholarly opinion on the literary quality of Xenophon of Ephesus can perhaps be best summarized by Anderson in the introduction to his translation: “The main interest of [Xenophon’s novel] is as a specimen of penny dreadful literature in antiquity; it exhibits in vintage form the characteristics of the melodrama and the popular novel as it portrays the tribulations of a pair of lovers harassed by misfortune” (2008: 125). Recent scholarship has softened this opinion slightly. Anderson 1995 has suggested that Xenophon began as an oral text.

Doulamis analyzes the speeches of Xenophon’s novel and notes rhetorical features there, to

5 O’Sullivan’s text prints ε’ (five) instead of the ι’ (ten) of the manuscripts, which is the most common emendation of this problem, since numbers are notoriously unreliable in manuscript traditions, cf. O’Sullivan 2014 for a fuller explanation. 6 In the Cambridge History of Greek Literature, which explains the longevity of this theory, since this book is used by graduate students preparing for exams. 8 argue that they “contain signs of literary self-consciousness and artistic design” (2002: 44). Ruiz

Montero discusses Xenophon’s use of a style similar to Pausanias’ as “rhetorical mimesis which adapts an oral style to oral material” (2003: 60). Above all, the scholarship of Aldo Tagliabue stresses the growth of the protagonists (2011b, 2012). Tagliabue’s monograph devoted to

Xenophon of Ephesus provides a cogent reading of the novel as demonstrating “the protagonists’ progress in love” (2017: 21).

Morgan discusses how Xenophon partakes in the concerns of the Second Sophistic.

Although Xenophon writes in a less-polished style than the other novelists, he nonetheless focuses on the difference between “elite and non-elite status” in a way similar to other writers of the Second Sophistic. He contrasts Anthia and Habrocomes with the barbarians, slaves, and pirates with whom they come in contact (2017: 400). Morgan characterizes Xenophon’s

“breathless plot” as a:

walk on the wild side of the world of the Second Sophistic, a nightmarish rehearsal of what it might mean to lose social status and everything that goes with it: comfort, leisure, culture, and most importantly, physical and moral security and control of one’s own person. In an extreme form, the story inscribes the real anxieties of the Greek elite in the imperial period, and defines their identity by a set of social antitheses. (2017: 400–1). Morgan demonstrates that the wandering portion of the novel reflects the real concerns of the elites of the period because the protagonists experience a reversal of Tyche. Xenophon’s novel contrasts Anthia and Habrocomes with various non-elite, barbarian potential lovers against whom they must defend themselves. This loss of elite status enables them to discover “who they really are” (2017: 398) by forcing them to keep their values even while losing their elite status.

Morgan argues that “the story … defines their identity by a set of social antitheses.”

(2017: 401). This thesis differs from Morgan in demonstrating that it is not just the story, but the protagonists who define themselves by a set of “social antitheses.” For example, Habrocomes’ 9 lament (2.1. 2–3)7 that submitting to Corymbus would make him a “whore (porne) instead of a man” conflates his sexual agency with his masculinity. Habrocomes would rather die than lose his sophrosyne which is the only remnant of his elite status he can keep while being enslaved.

This thesis analyzes Anthia’s and Habrocomes’ lament scenes in light of Morgan’s analysis of the elite vs. non-elite strain in Xenophon’s novel, which Morgan demonstrates shares a concern with identity in wider Imperial Greek literary culture, if not the rhetoric of the Second Sophistic.

Anthia’s and Habrocomes’s laments are concerned with maintaining their elite identities even while losing their elite status. The protagonists do this by defining their identities in terms of

“social antitheses.”

Theon’s Discussion of Character Types as Evidence for Social Antitheses

Aelius Theon’s discussion of prosopoeia analyzes the different rhetorical categories of different characters and how the writer should vary their speech to fit their characteristics.

Theon’s discussion of character categories provide useful information on how one rhetorician who at least potentially is contemporary with Xenophon8 conceives of the nature of what Morgan terms “social antitheses.”

7 References without author or work reference are to Xenophon’s Ephesiaca. 8The progymnasmata are not securely datable, but all except perhaps Theon (usually dated to first century CE, but Heath 2003: 141–58 argues for a fifth century date) are probably later than Xenophon. There is useful discussion in the OCD4 s.v. progymnasmata. Although most of these treatises are later than Xenophon, the presence of the same topoi in all of the novels, which probably range in date from the first to the fourth centuries, suggest that the rhetorical principles in play were relatively stable (Birchall 1996). Fernández Delgado notes that there are mentions of progymnasmata as early as the fourth century BCE (in the Pseudo-Aristotelian Rhetorica ad Alexandrum) (2007:276). Fernández Delgado 2007 and Perella 2015 provide useful summaries of the importance of the progymnasmata for Imperial Greek literature. See also Hock 1997 and Birchall 1996 for discussions on the application of the progymnasmata to the novelistic corpus. 10

Theon9 provides an important list of character types and their essential characteristics and how they differ from each other:

ἀλλ’ ὁ μὲν τοῦ νεωτέρου λόγος ἡμῖν ἁπλότητι καὶ σωφροσύνῃ μεμιγμένος ἔσται, ὁ δὲ τοῦ πρεσβυτέρου συνέσει καὶ ἐμπειρίᾳ· καὶ διὰ φύσιν γυναικὶ καὶ ἀνδρὶ ἕτεροι λόγοι ἁρμόττοιεν ἄν, καὶ διὰ τύχην δούλῳ καὶ ἐλευθέρῳ, … κατὰ δὲ διάθεσιν ἐρῶντι καὶ σωφρονοῦντι (Theon 115–16). But the speech of a younger person will have been mixed by us with simplicity and sophrosyne, the speech of an older man will be mixed with understanding and experience. And by nature, different speeches would be suitable for men and women, and on account of tyche, different speeches are suitable for free people and slaves, … and according to their condition there are different words for people in love and those who have sophrosyne. Theon focuses on different opposing character types and how to differentiate them. Theon analyzes how age, gender, free or enslaved status, and being in love or having sophrosyne are different character types and thus should use different logoi. All these different types and situations are found in Xenophon’s novel. Anthia and Habrocomes are young people who are known for their sophrosyne. Thus, it is not surprising that they define themselves by their sophrosyne frequently in their lament scenes. There are other characters, such as Manto or the pirates who are in love, and whose rhetoric is contrasted with that of the protagonists. The rhetoric of the characters varies based on gender, as I show by contrasting the laments of Anthia and Habrocomes. Rhetorical definitions of slavery versus freedom are also frequently found

Throughout this thesis, I analyze how the protagonists define themselves in terms of these categories.

Theon’s discussion of eros and sophrosyne as if they were opposites is striking to students of the Greek novel, since eros and sophrosyne are able to coexist in the Greek novel.10

9 All citations of Aelius Theon are to Patillon and Bolognesi 1997. All translations are my own. 10 See my discussion of sophrosyne later in this chapter for further discussion. 11

As I analyze in Chapter 2, Habrocomes at first conceives of sophrosyne as being diametrically opposed to eros, but that gradually that view changes to one in which the two concepts coexist.

As Habrocomes’ definition of sophrosyne shifts, so too does his character. This illustrates the usefulness of Theon’s discussion of different character types for analyzing how characters change their views of themselves and others.

This thesis analyzes how lament scenes illustrate the ways in which Anthia and

Habrocomes fashion their identities within the cultural context of Imperial Greek culture and the

Second Sophistic. Since I am looking primarily at how Anthia and Habrocomes define themselves, I will analyze their characterization as if they were the ones characterizing themselves. They are in fact, literary characters, and the extent to which they succeed in defining themselves reflects the quality with which they are written. Thus, if they are written well, this reflects well on Xenophon’s ability to manipulate rhetoric. Theon’s discussion of the distinctions between character types is useful to discover how Xenophon accomplishes this: how does

Xenophon differentiate between men and women, the old versus the young, slaves versus freed people and those who are in love from those who have sophrosyne?

Theon’s discussion of the different ways in which characters might define themselves as possessing certain special characteristics relates to Xenophon’s concern with having Anthia and

Habrocomes define themselves in relationship to their elite identities even while their outward status is non-elite.

Characterization and Self-Fashioning in the Greek Novel

Xenophon’s Ephesiaca has an “unusually large” cast of characters, forty-four by

Henderson’s count, thirty-three of whom have names (2009: 202). It thus becomes important for the reader to be able to see how these characters are distinguished. Most are stock characters. As discussed by Billault, character types are common in the Greek novel, which uses some from

New Comedy while also inventing new ones (1996: 115–29). But the characters who appear the most are individually differentiated. Anthia’s and Habrocomes’ characters are especially articulated in their direct speech. In their speeches, they characterize themselves and even form their identities. In this thesis I primarily look at lament speeches, although other forms of direct speech are occasionally considered, especially when they illuminate Anthia’s and Habrocomes’ self-characterization or self-fashioning.

I use the term self-fashioning in a way similar to Greenblatt in his study of this phenomenon in the English Early Modern Period (1980).11 Greenblatt argues that self-fashioning involves “submission to an absolute power or authority situated at least partially outside the self”

(1980: 9). Literary characters define themselves “in relation to something perceived as alien, strange, or hostile.” This self-fashioning thus involves self-definition of one’s identity in opposition to an “other.” The “power” used to “attack the alien is produced in excess and threatens the authority it sets out to defend. Hence self-fashioning always involves some experience of threat, some effacement or undermining, some loss of self” (1980: 9). Greenblatt

11 As Greenblatt’s theories are based on the sixteenth century, I do not wish to suggest that there was upward mobility of the sort Greenblatt describes in antiquity. There was some sense in which upward mobility was possible even in antiquity, e.g. Horace was the son of a freedman and by being introduced to Maecenas became part of the circle of Augustus. Nevertheless, I do not wish to suggest that there was the same upward mobility that Greenblatt sees in sixteenth century England in antiquity. Gleason summarizes how her discussion differs from Greenblatt’s in that they are part of the elite and thus are not self-made men to the same extent (1995: 160 n. 3). Thus, Imperial Greek writers are less likely to challenge authority than their sixteenth-century counterparts. Nevertheless, Greenblatt’s discussion is useful for the ways in which people define their identities in relation to higher societal forces . 13 applies this theory to various figures in Sixteenth-century English literature, such as More and

Shakespeare.

At first glance, Greenblatt’s theory seems very remote from how Anthia and Habrocomes discuss their identities in Xenophon’s Ephesiaca. Anthia’s and Habrocomes’ commitment to sophrosyne doesn’t necessarily threaten their sense of self. But once they are enslaved and lose their elite status, they protect themselves using the tactics of non-elite people. Owens analyzes how “Anthia and Habrocomes adapt to the conditions of slavery by acting and thinking like real slaves, that is, slaves who would lie to their masters or slaves who might even commit violent acts against them to defend their sophrosyne” (2020: 30). The fact that Anthia and Habrocomes act like slaves is even more striking in light of Morgan’s analysis of the importance of the sub- text of elites vs. non-elites in Xenophon’s novel, which I discussed above (2017: 400–1). Anthia and Habrocomes paradoxically use slavish methods to protect an aristocratic virtue. This is not dissimilar to the way in which Greenblatt defines how devotion to a higher power often includes the means of its own subversion. It is only by acting like the non-elite people they define themselves against that they may keep their sophrosyne.

Previous scholars of Imperial Greek literature have noted phenomena similar to self- fashioning. Gleason applies ideas about “the performance of selfhood” (1995: xi) to Imperial

Greek literature, especially to the performance of elite masculine culture in rhetorical texts.

Whitmarsh 2001 and 2005 discuss the importance of paideia and of demonstrating knowledge of

Greek literature as a means to prove one’s ability to be Greek and male. There is already an established strain in scholarship on Imperial Greek literature that sees the importance of rhetorical self-definition.

Novelistic scholarship also discusses issues of the self. Konstan 1994 discusses the importance of a new kind of novelistic hero who is defined by his suffering in love on the way to marriage (or after marriage, in the case of Xenophon and Chariton).12 Perkins argues that this new type of hero is shaped by the new importance of chastity before marriage as a way of showing men’s devotion to the social order (1996: 67). Haynes argues that these changes in the self-definitions of masculinity are reflected in lament scenes: “in the fiction of the novel both man and woman define themselves as husband and wife through their suffering and lamentation which is the proof of the strength of their bond” (Haynes 2003: 97). Thus, lament scenes are a way for the protagonists to define themselves as part of this new social order. The lament scene is a union of the importance of rhetoric characterized by the Second Sophistic with the importance of marriage in Imperial Greek society.

Whitmarsh also discusses how the identities of characters in the Greek novel are forged in the context of their society (2011). In particular, he discusses how laments interrogate four areas that are critical for determining how laments are shaped by questions of reality:

(i) absence of identity, which comes only with sedentary, polis- based life; (ii) limited self-determination, a characteristic of the liminal period; (iii) boundless narrativity, an existence in which the future could take any number of unpredictable twists and turns; (iv) endlessness, the lack of any tendency towards closure. (2011: 225). The wandering of the characters is a seemingly endless liminal state where they are acted upon by Tyche and thus have little control over their circumstances, hence their lamentation.13 There is a sense in which the protagonists lack an identity; the reason that the protagonists lament their

12 This develops ideas of symmetrical love as discussed by Foucault 1986: 228–232. 13 Whitmarsh 2009 and 2011: 214–52 include fuller discussion. Cf. Bakhtin’s “adventure time” (1981: 86–114), although there are some critical differences, particularly in the fact that Whitmarsh does allow for the events in the middle to change the protagonists. 15 loss of identity is because they need to regain a sense of who they are and why they are striving to keep their sophrosyne. Likewise, there is “limited self-determination,” since Anthia and

Habrocomes “cannot control [their] destiny”14 due to the fact that they are enslaved and thus have limited agency. Nevertheless, as I show in Chapter 3, Anthia uses various tricks to attempt to control her fate, even if they are not always successful. The wandering narrative does seem to be endless and boundless, in Xenophon’s novel more than the other novels. The reader never knows what is going to happen next. Thus, though in certain respects the characters are powerless, there are many ways in which the protagonists can renew their commitment to remaining true to their elite ideals even while being enslaved.

De Temmermann’s analysis of characterization in Xenophon’s novel argues that the narrator of the novel seldom comments directly on what the characters say or do. Most of the characterization that occurs is indirect, based on the reader’s interpretation of the characters’ actions and words (2014: 123–30). De Temmermann also argues that laments are a method of indirect characterization, since the “words pronounced by the characters have to the interpreted by the reader” (2014: 134). De Temmermann discusses the “unusually high number of lamentations” in Xenophon’s novel, which is surprising since “character text in this novel occupies only a relatively limited proportion (28.8%) of the total” (2014: 133–4). De

Temmermann notes that there are more laments in Xenophon than any of the other Greek novelists15 even though there is less direct speech in Xenophon than in the other novels (2014:

133–4). Lament scenes are thus more striking when they are found, due to the scarcity of direct

14 Whitmarsh 2011: 226, of Heliodorus’ Theagenes. 15 De Temmermann counts Habrocomes as making nine laments, and Anthia eleven. My counts are higher, seventeen for Habrocomes and twenty for Anthia. Regardless of the exact counts, the observation about there being more laments in Xenophon is surely correct. 16 speech in the novel. This thesis analyzes how the lament scenes in Xenophon’s Ephesiaca establish how Anthia and Habrocomes define the importance of their elite identities, even when they are temporarily, because of the vicissitudes of Fortune, in a liminal state characterized by their lack of elite status.

Sophrosyne

From the above discussion, it is clear that Greek novelistic scholarship consistently focuses on how selfhood is defined and shaped by societal forces. One particularly important term used consistently by Anthia and Habrocomes as the symbol of their commitment to each other and to their elite identities is sophrosyne, which De Temmermann calls “the most heavily emphasized characteristic” in Xenophon’s Ephesiaca (2014: 126).

Sophrosyne is defined in LSJ as “1. soundness of mind, prudence, discretion 2. moderation in sensual desires, self-control, temperance 3. in a political sense, a moderate form of government.” The second sense is most common in the Greek novel, in which it is often used to denote “sexual purity.” Konstan sees σωφροσύνη as not so much chastity in an absolute sense, but as “fidelity” between lovers:

Their special virtue consists in preserving a commitment to their partner as the unique object of love. The responsibility of fidelity is not differentiated according to gender, and it finds expression in a relationship based on reciprocal desire and equality and equality of station, as opposed to the unequal distribution of power that characterizes the passion of intrusive lovers. (1994: 55). Anthia’s and Habrocomes’ love is “symmetrical;” they are both more or less equal and they are both equally committed to each other. Sophrosyne, for Konstan, is the constancy and fidelity which proves their commitment to their relationship. The importance of fidelity at all costs

(sophrosyne) becomes an important theme of the novel, providing the adventures and wandering

17 with special significance. Counter to Bakhtin’s notion of “adventure-time” where the adventure does not mean anything, being mere filler (1981: 86–104), the events that happen in “adventure- time” are tests in which the protagonists prove their sophrosyne. Konstan argues this clearly:

“The events in the Greek novel are designed to test the love of the primary couple … In the process, their loyalty or commitment to one another becomes the defining characteristic of their relationship, tried and tested by the various episodes that constitute the narrative” (1994: 46).

But this oversimplifies the complex relationships of the protagonists to their sophrosyne which are evident from the lament scenes. As I demonstrate in Chapter 2, Habrocomes’s definition of sophrosyne changes gradually in the course of the novel from a Hippolytus-like scorn for Eros (e.g. 1.4. 4–5) to an enduring commitment to stay true to Anthia even if she is already dead.16 A careful reading of the lament scenes thus shows that far from a static commitment to each other, the definition of sophrosyne changes throughout the course of the novel.

Lament and Identity

Lament and Genre

Lamentation in the Greek novel inevitably evokes the lamentation that is ubiquitous in tragedy. Hippothous calls the lament of the death of Hyperanthes in 3.2 a “tragedy” (3.1.4:

τραγῳδίαν). Thus at least in that instance, Xenophon makes a clear connection between

16 My analysis of the changing definitions of sophrosyne is suggested by DeTemmermann (2014: 127–30). 18 lamentation and tragedy.17 Scholarship which focuses on how genres which predate the Greek novel influence the Greek novel has noted how the lament scenes in the Greek novel have been especially influenced by tragedy.

Fusillo, in his survey of generic models for the Greek novel, discusses tragic lamentation. and how novelistic lamentation differs:

This debasement (abbassamento) [from tragedy to the novel] derives from two factors: repetition and the transitory nature of the lamentable events evoked in tragic monologues; while the hero/heroine of Greek tragedy laments his/her own misfortune in a single, justified torrent, the hero/heroine of a Greek novel despairs because of a separation that seems to him/her insuperable, and it pushes him/her to suicide, but that also repeats itself many times, degrading the emotional outburst to a repeated topos (especially in the earlier novelists); in contrast with the always definitive events of a Greek tragedy, the misfortunes lamented in the novel are either deaths that are revealed as apparent, or they are real misfortunes, but which nevertheless prepare the happy ending. (1989:40) Fusillo especially notes that the difference between tragic and novelistic lamentation is one of tone. He sees the novel lament as a “lowering,” almost parodic imitation of tragedy.18

Lamentation happens only once in tragedy, and it is always an event which is irreversible. The lament in the novel has been reduced, in Fusillo’s estimation, to a topos, whose seriousness is reduced by its common appearance. Fusillo notes that lamentation is always a temporary state in the Greek novel, suicides never are final, and there is always a happy ending.

Morgan develops a theory that laments serve a double purpose; they give the narrator a chance to show off rhetorically, and develop the tension between divine providence and Tyche:

Not only do these communicate the character's despair, the rhetorical skill of the author drawing the reader into experiencing for himself the impact of momentary misfortune; more importantly their implicit theology sets up a counter-model to the divine

17 As already noted in this introduction, Habrocomes’ concept of sophrosyne and scorn for Eros recalls Hippolytus. See Ch. 2 for further discussion. 18 Létoublon and Genre similarly discuss parody in novelistic lamentation (2014:356). This is probably truer of writers like Achilles Tatius than Xenophon. 19

providence, manifested by dreams and oracles, that seems on other occasions to be operating to direct the story to its proper ending; they hypothesize a world governed by a malign deity whose sport it is to delude human beings and cause them to suffer. (1989: 303) Thus, lamentation reflects a sinister world in which the characters are subject to the whims of

Tyche, not the more positive world view of divine providence. Whitmarsh develops this idea by arguing that the laments represent the tension between the tragedy in which the heroes think they are and the comedy in which they are (2011: 230–1). There is much potential for play with generic boundaries19 in novelistic lament scenes (2011: 223–32). Whitmarsh’s theory suggests that the characters view their lives in tragic terms, since they do not know that there will be a happy ending. This tension will be analyzed in detail, as it gives the novelistic heroes a chance to define themselves.

Camps Gasset notes that these monologues of lament have an element of theatricality since many “have no obvious listener” (2017: 33). The speeches are introduced by verbs of speaking, not thinking (2017: 33). Thus, these lament speeches are monologues, which “would be common on stage, alone in front of an audience, either in a tragic performance or in a mime”

(2017: 33). This suggests that Xenophon is “thinking in theatrical terms” whereby “the audience learns things in advance through the actors’ play and direct words” rather than “with the conventions of narrative writing, which demand a finer accuracy to bring the different threads of the plot tightly together.” (2017: 33). Novelistic lament scenes are not presented as the thoughts of the protagonists which are thought to themselves but as spoken monologues which possibly suggests that the novels were read aloud, much as the rest of ancient literature.

19 Generic affinities between tragedy, New Comedy, and the novel, are noted by Fusillo 1989: 33–55. There is also a brief discussion of the lament scenes in the novel as parodies of tragedy in Létoublon and Genre 2014: 356. Höschele 2014: 740 discusses laments as common to both New Comedy and the Novel. 20

Gender and Tragic Lamentation

There has been a great deal of scholarship on lamentation in tragedy. My aim is not to be exhaustive, but my focus is on how gender dynamics function in lament scenes in tragedy. The questions I am primarily concerned with are: is lamentation unmanly, and, is there a difference in the dynamics of lament between male characters and female characters?

The issue of masculine lamentation in tragedy is a difficult one. In scholarship on tragedy, McClure acknowledges that male lamentation “suggests a compromised gender status, since tragedy does not typically depict adult Athenian men as engaging in lyric utterance” (1999:

148). McClure’s overview of lamentation in tragedy thus focuses on feminine lamentation (1999:

40–47).

Soter lists and discusses examples of masculine lamentation and concludes the following:

“there is no difference between male and female laments in occasion, strophic structures, meters, topoi, or linguistic features. If lament were a female genre, one might expect to find variation by gender, in particular in the topoi and linguistic features, but one does not” (2008b: 165). Since there are no formal differences between tragic lamentation based on gender, it is difficult to conclude definitively that tragic lamentation is strictly a feminine genre.

van Wees insightfully surveys how the gender dynamics in lamentation change from

Homer to tragedy, philosophy, and oratory (1998: 10–9). In Homer, while there are various social circumstances where lamentation is considered inappropriate, such as when gathering the fallen dead, or at feasts, it is never suggested that lamentation is not masculine (1998: 14).

Between Homer and the Classical period, there was a change in the gender dynamics of lamentation. van Wees references Plato’s Phaedo, where, when Socrates is about to drink the

21 poison, he tells those with him to be strong (karterei) and stop crying, implicitly comparing them to women (Pl. Phd. 117c–e). He also references men lamenting in tragedy and in these, van

Wees notes, “The ideal, it would seem, is not to suppress one’s emotions altogether, as Plato would have it, but to strike a balance between a show of sensitivity and a show of self-control”

(1998: 17).

van Wees also references Plato’s Republic, which treats the ideals of gender with regard to private grief (ubiquitous in the Greek novel). Plato, in the Republic, speculates on the difference between lamentation in Homer or tragedy and real life:

ἀκούων σκόπει. οἱ γάρ που βέλτιστοι ἡμῶν ἀκροώμενοι Ὁμήρου ἢ ἄλλου τινὸς τῶν τραγῳδοποιῶν μιμουμένου τινὰ τῶν ἡρώων ἐν πένθει ὄντα καὶ μακρὰν ῥῆσιν ἀποτείνοντα ἐν τοῖς ὀδυρμοῖς ἢ καὶ ἄδοντάς τε καὶ κοπτομένους, οἰσθ’ ὅτι χαίρομεν τε καὶ ἐνδόντες ἡμᾶς αὐτοὺς ἑπομεθα συμπάσχοντες, καὶ σπουδάζοντες ἐπαινοῦμεν ὡς ἀγαθὸν ποιητὴν ὅς ἂν ἡμᾶς ὅτι μάλιστα οὕτω διαθῇ. οἶδα· πῶς δ’ οὔ; Ὅταν δὲ οἰκεῖον τινι ἡμῶν κῆδος γένηται, ἐννοεῖς αὖ ὅτι ἐπὶ τῷ ἐναντίῳ καλλωπιζόμεθα, ἂν δυνώμεθα ἡσυχίαν ἄγειν καὶ καρτερεῖν, ὡς τοῦτο μὲν ἀνδρὸς ὄν, ἐκεῖνο δὲ γυναικός, ὃ τότε ἐπῃνοῦμεν. (Pl. Rep. 605c9–e1)20 Socrates: Consider while you listen. For the best of us when we hear Homer or some other of the tragic poets imitating one of the heroes who is in pain and stretching out a long speech in his laments or even singing and beating themselves, you know that we are happy and we surrender ourselves and follow them, suffering together. And we seriously praise as a good poet whoever makes us suffer most. Glaucon: I know. And why not? Socrates: Whenever a personal grief happens to some one of us, in turn you think that we take pride in the opposite, if we are able to keep quiet and be strong, the latter is what a man does, the former what a woman does, which at one time we praised. In this speech, Socrates claims that as far as the gender dynamics of lamentation are concerned, there is a difference between reading epic and tragedy and real life. Plato is denouncing poetry

20 All citations of Plato’s Republic are to Slings 2003. All translations are my own. 22 and banishing it from his ideal state. He rejects epic and tragedy for producing emotional responses which are gendered feminine. In real life men are supposed to act austere and not express their emotions. Men are supposed to “be strong” and resist the emotional urge to lament.

This speech will be important to Chapter 2, when I discuss Habrocomes’s lamentation, when

Habrocomes tells himself to “be strong” using the same word (καρτερέω). Plato clearly sees male lamentation as un-masculine and thus it ought to be banished from his state.

From the above discussion of how lament in tragedy functions, it is clear that lamentation is usually considered un-masculine. But there are moments in tragedy where men are allowed to lament without censure, as Soter discusses. Masculine lamentation is a complex issue.

Konstan argues that the heroes in the Greek novel reflect a new form of masculinity in which lamentation becomes more acceptable: “Both [hero and heroine] tend to be represented as victims, both give way to tears, lamentation, and despair” (1994: 34). The Greek novel thus represents a different world in which the men take little action to protect themselves, but they lament. The Greek novel does not have a strong hero who saves a damsel in distress, but,“where resolute action is required in defense of chastity or safety, the heroine, no less than the hero, shows spirit and determination” (1994: 34). This thesis considers how both Anthia and

Habrocomes construct their gender identities by lamentation, and how Anthia takes action to defend her sophrosyne.

Overview of Chapters

Chapter Two analyzes how Xenophon characterizes Habrocomes as self-fashioning in his lament scenes in order to maintain his sophrosyne. Habrocomes characterizes himself as weak and un-masculine for falling in love with Anthia in a manner similar to Hippolytus. Then he

23 concedes to Eros, and vows to maintain complete fidelity to Anthia. After being kidnapped by pirates and enslaved, he experiences a crisis in which he contrasts his present slavery with his former freedom, and then states that his soul is free and thus he will keep his vow of sophrosyne.

After Habrocomes is separated from Anthia, his main goal is to “be strong” and wait until he can find Anthia again. He hopes to find her alive if possible, but also prepares himself for the possibility of her death. Most of Habrocomes’s laments construct the importance of enduring until he can reunite with Anthia.

Chapter Three is concerned with how Anthia’s lamentations are often calls to action.

Anthia laments a problem, then finds a way to solve it. There is a tension between use of schemes and tricks and her elite status, as Anthia resorts to lying and stealing to protect her identity. Owens sees this as indications of using tactics of a clever slave (2020: 34–40). But

Anthia uses intertext with the Odyssey as a way to construct her story as a Penelopeid, to borrow

Tagliabue’s phrase (2011b). Thus, Anthia uses literary antecedents to construct her acting like a slave as an act of heroism.

Chapter 2: “ἀεί σε θρηνῶν”: Self-Fashioning in Habrocomes’ Lament Scenes

At the end of Xenophon’s Ephesiaca, Leucon and Rhode, former slaves of Anthia and

Habrocomes who had since been freed, see Anthia and tell her that Habrocomes is in the same city: “Habrocomes is safe and is here, constantly lamenting you” (5.12.5:Ἁβροκόμης σῴζεται

καὶ ἔστιν ἐνταῦθα, ἀεί σε θρηνῶν). ἀεί is difficult to translate here. I do not think that

Habrocomes is literally “always” lamenting. Henderson’s (2009: 359) “constantly” well captures the sense here. Habrocomes’s lamentation is habitual and common enough to highlight. Leucon and Rhode’s comment on the frequency of Habrocomes’s lamentation is what they tell Anthia about Habrocomes after she is separated from him for the majority of the novel. This suggests that lamentation in Xenophon of Ephesus’s Ephesiaca is not just a melodramatic filler but also an important part of the way in which Habrocomes expresses and shape his identity as a novelistic hero.

Habrocomes’ Self-Fashioning against Eros

After seeing Anthia at a festival, Habrocomes begins to lament in the manner of an epic hero in rending his hair and tearing his clothes:

[λαβὼν] δὴ τὴν κόμην ὁ Ἁβροκόμης καὶ σπαράξας <καὶ περιρρηξάμενος> τὴν ἐσθῆτα «φεῦ μοι τῶν κακῶν…τί πέπονθα δυστυχής; ὁ μέχρι νῦν ἀνδρικὸς Ἁβροκόμης, ὀ καταφρονῶν Ἔρωτος, ὁ τῷ θεῷ λοιδορούμενος ἑάλωκα καὶ νενίκημαι καὶ παρθένῳ δουλεύειν ἀναγκάζομαι, καὶ φαίνεταί τις ἤδη καλλίων ἐμοῦ καὶ θεὸν Ἔρωτα καλῶ. ὤ πάντα ἄνανδρος ἐγὼ καὶ πονηρός. οὐ καρτερήσω νῦν; οὐ μενῶ γεννικός; οὐκ ἔσομαι κρείττων Ἔρωτος; νῦν οὐδὲν ὄντα θεὸν νικῆσαί με δεῖ. καλὴ παρθένος. τί δέ; τοῖς σοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς, Ἁβροκόμη, εὔμορφος Ἀνθία, ἀλλ’, ἐὰν θέλῃς, οὐχὶ σοί. δεδόχθω ταῦτα. οὐκ ἂν Ἔρως ποτέ μου κρατήσαι. (1.4. 1–3)

Habrocomes indeed [took and] 21 tore his hair his clothes, “Alas for me because of misfortunes…Why have I suffered wretchedly? I, the until now manly Habrocomes, who looked down on Eros, who mocked the god, have been caught and have been conquered and am forced to become a slave to a girl. And now someone both looks more beautiful than me and I call Eros a god. O I am unmanly and wicked in every way. Will I not overcome now? Will I not maintain my nobility? Will I not be stronger than Eros? Now he should not beat me at all even if he is a god. The girl is pretty. What of it? To your eyes, Habrocomes, Anthia is pretty, but, if you are willing, not to you. Let these things be established. Eros could never beat me.”

Tagliabue argues that rending hair and clothes reflects a “stylized theatrical behavior attributed to some characters in the novel” and that they are “a typical tragic reaction” (2011a ad. 1.4.1).

There are also clear parallels in this passage with epic lamentation of both men and women.

Homer states that Achilles “befouled his hair” (κόμην ᾔσχυνε) while lamenting the death of

Patroclus (Il. 18.27). While lamenting the death of Hector, Andromache threw off the jewelry from her body(Il. 22. 467–72). Disfiguring clothing and rending hair is part of the normal lament process in epic, which suggests parallels between the actions of Habrocomes and Achilles.

Although there is heroic precedent for his mode of lamentation, Habrocomes chides himself for un-manliness in lamenting his lack of andreia and tells himself to be strong. I see clear parallels here in the use of the verb καρτερέω with the passage from Plato’s Republic discussed in Ch. 1 (Pl. Rep. 605d7–e1), where Socrates tells Agathon that “to be strong”

(καρτερεῖν) is “manly” (ἀνδρὸς ὄν) when dealing with personal griefs, in contrast with the lamentation on the tragic stage. If Habrocomes remembers his Plato, and Tagliabue sees many

Platonic intertexts elsewhere in Xenophon’s Ephesiaca, 22 then it is probable that his lamentation,

21 I follow Tagliabue’s textual suggestion in bracketing λαβὼν as a gloss on σπαράξας, which is an improvement over O’Sullivan’s text, which awkwardly has two participles for one noun, contrary to Xenophon’s normal usage (2011a ad 1.4.1). 22 Cf. Tagliabue’s discussion of thematic parallels with Plato’s Symposium and Phaedrus (2017: 97–122), which establish Plato among Xenophon’s possible literary influences. 26 is the reason that he is calling himself unmanly. Although the epic hero is allowed to show grief by disfiguring himself, Platonic models say that this is not masculine, and Habrocomes is aware of this tension and wishes that his actions were more in line with Platonic models.

This lament also combines two motifs which in surviving literature are most common in

Roman love elegy:23 militia amoris and servitium amoris. Militia amoris is the application of martial imagery to love affairs. Habrocomes uses the language of militia amoris when he laments that Eros has conquered him. As noted by Tagliabue, there is much militaristic language used of

Eros in the early part of the novel (2017: 21–5). For example, when Habrocomes makes it clear that he is haughty and he does not find any girls attractive, Eros “after arming himself and equipping himself with the whole might of love potions, battled against Habrocomes”(1.2.1

ἐξοπλίσας ἑαυτὸν καὶ πᾶσαν δύναμιν ἐρωτικῶν φαρμάκων περιβαλόμενος ἐστράτευεν ἐφ’

Ἁβροκόμην.). The language of militia amoris is evident in this lament from verbs of military defeat: ἑάλωκα, νενίκημαι. (“I have been caught/ I have been conquered”). Habrocomes equates his defeat to the god of Love as a loss of manliness, or, in other words, ἀνδρεία24. Jones notes

23 Murgatroyd notes Greek examples of militia amoris in poetry as early as Sappho and occasionally in tragedy (e.g. Soph. Ant. 781f.). It is especially prevalent in Hellenistic epigram (1975: 59–65). Murgatroyd has a similar list of Greek antecedents with respect to servitium amoris (1981). There is thus no need to posit a direct line of influence between Roman elegy and the Greek novel. Nevertheless, there has been a good deal of scholarship in recent years that suggests a more direct line of influence. Reardon identifies similarities between Achilles Tatius Book 2 and Ovid’s Ars Amatoria, and suggests that Leucippe “has clearly read her Ovid and knows the rules” (1994: 86 = 1999: 250). If Leucippe has read Ovid, the novelists implicitly have too. Konstan discusses elegy in a chapter on precursors to the novel; his main argument suggests that the love in Roman elegy is not symmetrical, unlike love in the Greek novel (1994: 150–9). Paglialunga provides a detailed look at similarities between Ovid’s Ars Amatoria and the Greek novel and even suggests that “it could be said that Xenophon would have been a better elegist than novelist” (2005: 270). Christenson notes an example of militia amoris in Achilles Tatius’ novel (2001). Jones discusses militia amoris in her discussion of andreia, a topos common both in Roman elegy and the novel (2012: 159–72). Tagliabue examines the topoi of love found in Xenophon’s Ephesiaca and provides a detailed list of parallels in Greek and Latin literature; elegy is amply represented (2011a: 121–51). From this scholarship, it is clear there is at least a possible intertextual connection between Latin love elegy and the Greek novel. 24 For discussions of ἀνδρεία in Ancient Greek literature in general, see Rosen and Sluiter 2003. For this concept in Imperial Greek culture, see Connolly 2003. Jones 2007 and Jones 2012: 92–173 provide useful discussions of this virtue as it relates to the Greek novel. 27 that the world of warfare had been considered an important part of ἀνδρεία since at least

Aeschylus (Jones 2012: 95–7). Thus, being conquered, even metaphorically, is considered a loss of manliness. Habrocomes being conquered by Eros involves loss of masculinity, since losing in battle undermines masculine ideals of courage and martial prowess.

Habrocomes also sees himself as enslaved to Anthia: “I am forced to be a slave to an unmarried girl” (παρθένῳ δουλεύειν ἀναγκάζομαι) which is an example of the topos of servitium amoris.25 servitium amoris, slavery as a metaphor for love, is seen as an obligatory

(ἀναγκάζομαι) consequence of his being conquered by Eros. Like someone conquered in battle, now Habrocomes must be enslaved, and to a girl. Tagliabue sees slavery in this passage as a metaphor for “the uncontrollable power of love” (2011a ad X. Eph. 4.1). But this passage also serves a proleptic function. Since the protagonists each spend a significant portion of the novel enslaved, servitium amoris assumes a level of irony. Slavery is not merely in this novel a metaphorical loss of agency as it is in Roman elegy but foreshadows the fact that they both will be legally enslaved.26 The contrast and irony between servitium amoris and actual slavery is discussed further below.

25 This seems very similar to the concept of servitium amoris in Roman love elegy. Murgatroyd 1981 sees this trope as having a number of Greek beginnings in Soph., Pl., Men., and in Hellenistic epigram. I myself have found that there are similar discussions of servitium amoris in Char., Ach. Tat., and Heliod. There is a tendency in the novels for lovers to call themselves “slaves of Eros:” Char. 4.2. 3, Ach. Tat. 5. 25.6. There is only one place where someone calls himself a slave of one of the heroines, and it is not at all flattering: Thersander (!) calls himself a slave of Leucippe (Ach. Tat. 6.20.1). This suggests that being a slave of a girl is not flattering here either. Similarly, in Heliod. 4.4.4 Charicleia is described as a “slave to desire.” (δεδούλωτο τῷ πόθῳ). 26 Owens agrees with this assessment of the way in which this foreshadows their looming slavery: “Xenophon alone draws a contrast between his protagonists’ metaphorical slavery and their looming nonmetaphorical enslavement….The supernatural device of the oracle connects the protagonists’ metaphorical slavery to their future actual enslavement, when they will endure the humiliation, mental anguish and physical suffering associated with actual slavery: separation from one’s home, hard labor, and constraint” (2020: 29). 28

Habrocomes’s lament emphasizes his wish to continue to “be strong,” which he equates with his masculinity. He does not wish to be defeated and be a slave to a girl. He vows to hold strong. This resolve lasts for about two and a half lines, before he addresses Eros:

νενίκηκας … Ἔρως, μέγα σοι τρόπαιον ἐγήγερται κατὰ Ἁβροκόμου τοῦ σώφρονος. ἱκέκτην ἔχε κα<ὶ> σῶσον τὀν ἐπί σὲ καταπεφεύγοτα τὸν πάντων δεσπότην. μή με περιίδῃς μηδὲ ἐπὶ πολύ τιμωρήσῃ τὸν θρασύν. ἄπειρος ὤν, Ἔρως, ἔτι τῶν σῶν ὐπερηφάνουν· ἀλλὰ νῦν Ἀνθίαν ἠμῖν ἀπόδος· γενοῦ μὴ πικρὸς μόνον ἀντιλέγοντι, ἀλλ’ εὐεργέτης ἡττωμένῳ θεός. (1.4.4–5)

You have won,27… Eros, a great monument has been raised by you against Habrocomes who has sophrosyne. Have as a suppliant and save [me] who has taken refuge with the master of everything. Do not neglect me and do not avenge my pride so much; although I was powerless, yet I treated your domain with scorn. But now give Anthia to me. Only do not be harsh to your opponent, but a benefactor deity to your defeated enemy.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this concession speech surrounds the question of what exactly constitutes sophrosyne. Here Habrocomes equates his sophrosyne with his scorn for

Eros. Habrocomes probably means something like the sophrosyne of Hippolytus,28 whose

27 In this speech of surrender, Habrocomes continues to use the language of militia amoris as in conceits such as at Ov. Am. 1.2, where the speaker even imagines that Cupid has a Roman triumph. This poem is discussed by Tagliabue as similar to this passage; the fact that there are multiple topoi similar to those found in Roman elegy is at least suggestive that Xenophon may be drawing on Roman elegy for some of his topoi, even if these are found elsewhere in Greek literature (Tagliabue 2011a: 377–8). 28 Many scholars have noted similarities between Euripides’ Hippolytus and Xenophon’s Ephesiaca. Laplace sees echoes of Euripides’ Hippolytus and Electra in the Ephesiaca, but calls the novel “paratragic” since the sad events of tragedy “change into a happy ending” (1994: 455–8). Paglialunga notes in passing that Habrocomes is “like a true Hippolytus” (2005: 270). The most extensive discussion is Giovanelli, who notes detailed parallels between Euripides and Xenophon (2008: 277–89). De Temmermann states, “Habrocomes’ “Hippolytean’ introduction as a novel hero who does not want to have anything to do with love seems to problematize the novelistic topos of love at first sight and presents a disconcertingly extreme and dangerous type of sophrosyne. However, Habrocomes soon yields to Eros’ power and the figure of Hippolytus virtually disappears from the novel.” (2014: 142). Lefteratou also sees parallels between the hybris of Habrocomes and Hippolytus; his discussion is innovative in that it notes that this parallel goes deeper since Anthia is repeatedly compared to Artemis (2018: 131–41). Camps Gasset maintains that Eros “acts as an avenger of Habrocomes’ contempt towards him, playing the part of Aphrodite with Hippolytus, and being the cause of all misfortunes for the young lovers” (2017: 28). Tagliabue dissents from this view, in seeing parallels with Euripides as problematic, since it is Aphrodite and not Eros to whom Hippolytus is arrogant (2017: 111–2 n. 47). I agree with the consensus and think that the parallels are in favor of seeing intertexts here. Eros and Aphrodite are often interchangeable as love deities. Also the passages where Habrocomes is arrogant in the first few sections of the novel present clear parallels with Hippolytus, but there is a clear contrast between Habrocomes who redefines sophrosyne, as I show below, and Hippolytus, who dies. 29 sophrosyne Barrett describes as “exaggerated, in the sexual sphere, into abnegation” (1964 ad

Eur. Hip. 79–81). De Temmermann argues, “Habrocomes consigns to the past his identification of the rejection of Eros (‘sophrosyne’) with manliness (‘andreia’) and now conceptualizes sophrosyne (or better, what he once believed to be an instance of it) in terms of arrogance and harshness” (2014: 128). Throughout the rest of the novel, Habrocomes continually seeks to define and re-define what sophosyne is and how he can show it. I discussed in Chapter 1 how

Aelius Theon contrasts the speech of those with sophrosyne and those who feel eros (Prog. 115).

Thus, when Habrocomes redefines sophrosyne from a virtue which cannot coexist with eros into a virtue which can, he is possibly playing with the conventions of Imperial rhetoric by subverting the norms of characterization.

Habrocomes’ Changing Definitions of sophrosyne

Tagliabue argues that fidelity is not emphasized in the marriage scene, but erotic desire, which provides a foil for the end of the novel, where the protagonists prove their fidelity (2017:

26–39). Erotic desire is certainly important, as evidenced at 1.8 by the ekphrasis of their sheets, which includes a panel of Aphrodite and Ares29 and by Anthia’s speeches during that night, which will be analyzed in detail in the next chapter. Habrocomes also deploys erotic language, using the word for an active sexual partner (ἐραστής), which will later take on significance when he contemplates being a passive lover to Corymbus.30 Even though in the immediate context of the marriage night the erotic nature of marriage is what is emphasized, Habrocomes wishes for

29 The only ekphrasis in the entire novel! This is striking in view of the importance of ekphrasis in the other novelists, especially Longus, Heliodorus, and Achilles Tatius. Bartsch 1989 provides a detailed study of ekphrasis in Achilles Tatius and Heliodorus. 30 See my discussion of 2.1 later in this chapter. 30

Anthia to have sophrosyne, which foreshadows of the important role which this virtue acquires in the rest of the novel.31

He states, “you have your lover as a husband, with whom may it be possible for a wife who has sophrosyne to live and to die” (1.9.2–3:τὸν ἐραστὴν ἔχεις ἄνδρα, μεθ’οὗ ζῆν καὶ

ἀποθανεῖν ὐπάρξαι γύναικὶ σώφρονι). Despite Habrocomes’ earlier fears that falling in love leads to a lack of masculinity (expressed in 1.4), he now sees himself as an adult man and thus sees himself as having the agency to take the initiative in erotic matters.32 Tagliabue sees

Habrocomes’ earlier speeches in Book 1 as showing that Anthia as the erastes (2017: 113–6), implicitly making Habrocomes the eromenos. Here Habrocomes attempts to reassert his sexual dominance by figuring his marriage in a pederastic paradigm. He does not yet see Anthia as his equal and thus this complicates Konstan’s (1994) discussion of “sexual symmetry” for this couple. Habrocomes still sees his identity as tied to a model of sexual dominance in which he makes no promises of fidelity, only wishing for his wife to be faithful.

After Anthia and Habrocomes are married, they vow to keep their sophrosyne. While this is not a lament scene, this oath is an important moment of self-definition in which Habrocomes expresses his wish for sophrosyne in a different way than he has expressed previously, and one to which he often refers in later lament scenes:

ἂν δ’ἄρα τι ᾖ πεπρωμένον παθεῖν, καί πως ἀλλήλων ἀπαλλαγῶμεν, ὀμόσωμεν ἑαυτοῖς, φιλτάτη, ὡς σὺ μὲν ἐμοὶ μενεῖς ἁγνὴ καὶ ἄλλον ἄνδρα ούχ ὑπομενεῖς, ἐγὠ δὲ ὅτι οὐκ {ἄν}ἄλλῃ γυναικὶ συνοικήσαιμι. (1.11.3–4)

31 This scene is referenced in Habrocomes’s speech at 2. 8, when Anthia is forced to accompany Manto and her new husband. This scene will be examined later in this chapter. 32 Anthia in fact takes the initiative on the wedding night, as I discuss in Ch. 3. Cf. also Tagliabue’s discussion of the wedding scene, which emphasizes Anthia’s dominance on the wedding night (2017: 20–52) 31

But if it be destined to suffer anything and somehow we may be separated from each other, let us swear to each other, dearest, that you will stay pure to me and you will not submit to another man, and I will swear that I will not cohabitate with another woman.

Here Habrocomes defines sophrosyne as slightly different for him and for Anthia. For him, sophrosyne is not “living with” (συνοικήσαιμι) another woman. For Anthia, Habrocomes emphasizes sexual purity and not submitting to another man. Habrocomes’ definition of his own sophrosyne thus implies more agency and choice, whereas his definition of Anthia’s sophrosyne is made in terms of “submission” or “endurance” (ὐπομενεῑς), implying that Anthia may not always have agency to resist. Habrocomes sees himself, just as on his wedding night, as having more agency than Anthia; thus, his definition of sophrosyne implies more agency.

In both these scenes, the importance of sophrosyne is emphasized. Habrocomes definition of sophrosyne shifts throughout the first part of the novel. At 1.4. 4–5, his definition of sophrosyne is a Hippolytus-like desire to be free of Eros/eros. During the wedding night,

Habrocomes expresses the wish “to live and die with a wife who has sophrosyne.” In his oath, he also emphasizes Anthia’s sophrosyne, specifying it as “purity and not submitting to another man.” Habrocomes defines his own sophrosyne as “not living” with another woman. Thus, in both these scenes, Habrocomes takes for granted that he has more agency than Anthia, calling himself the erastes in 1.9 and using a more active verb (συνοικέω) in 1.11 for his definition of his sophrosyne than for his definition of Anthia’s. Habrocomes, thus, is trying to define sophrosyne, which as Aelius Theon discusses, differentiates between a person who has eros and a person who has sophrosyne (Prog. 115). In the course of this scene, Habrocomes no longer sees these two categories as mutually exclusive but his definition of sophrosyne becomes increasingly tied to his sexual agency and his masculinity.

“A Whore Instead of a Man”: Habrocomes’ Masculine Desire for sophrosyne

This emphasis on active (masculine) and passive (feminine) forms of sophrosyne is heightened in the next lament. When the pirates Euxeinus and Corymbus confess their love for the protagonists, Habrocomes laments and reinforces his resolve to maintain his sophrosyne by affirming his commitment to his marriage. Since ἀνήρ can mean “man” and “husband” (LSJ s.v.

I, V), and γύνη “woman” and “wife” (LSJ s.v. I, II), Habrocomes reinforces both his gender and marriage roles. Habrocomes wishes to maintain his status as a man and husband and does not wish to revert to a more adolescent role as eromenos, which he sees as feminine.

Habrocomes fashions himself as a man, and thus is uninterested in being demoted to a child lover of Corymbus:

εἰς τοῦτο ἄρα μέχρι νῦν σώφρων ἐτηρήθην, ἵνα ἐμαυτὸν ὑποθῶ λῃστῇ ἐρῶντι τὴν αἰσχρὰν ἐπιθυμίαν; καὶ τίς ἐμοί βίος περιλείπεται πόρνῃ μὲν ἀντὶ ἀνδρὸς γενομένῳ, ἀποστερηθέντι δὲ Ἀνθίας τῆς ἐμῆς; ἀλλ’ οὐ μὰ τὴν μέχρις ἄρτι σωφροσύνην ἐκ παιδὸς μοι σύντροφον, οὐκ ἂν ἐμαυτὸν ὑποθείην Κορύμβῳ, τεθνήξομαι δὲ πρότερον καὶ φανοῦμαι νεκρὸς σώφρων.’ (2.1.2–4)

For this reason, then, did I keep myself chaste, in order to submit to a pirate who loves a shameful lust? And what life is left for me if I become a whore instead of a man, and if I am deprived of my Anthia? But no, by my current sophrosyne, my companion from my boyhood, I could not submit to Corymbus, but I will have died earlier, and I will be seen as a corpse with sophrosyne.

Habrocomes does not wish to lose his dominant masculine status by becoming a pirate’s lover, which would make him a “whore instead of a man.” Habrocomes uses the feminine form πόρνη, the only time it is used of a man in the Greek novel. According to TLG, πόρνη occurs four other times in the five extant ideal novels, all in book 8 of Achilles Tatius, and used by Thersander et al. of Leucippe (8.8.3, 8.8.11, 8.10.3, 8.11.2). The context of the court case in Ach. Tat. 8 suggests that this word is highly-gendered invective. It is therefore surprising that Xenophon did

33 not use πόρνος, which appears at least once in the five extant ideal novels, including Ach. Tat.

8.10.9 (Thersander of Cleitophon). πόρνος also is in the manuscript tradition in book 1 of

Chariton,33 and in Reardon 2004 (Char. 1.2.3). The suitors, as exclusi amatores, call Chaereas a

πόρνος. The word, in both its masculine and feminine forms, is heavily charged invective.

The dominant sexual status which Habrocomes has acquired by becoming husband is at stake, as losing it constitutes a loss of masculinity. Jones summarizes this passage well: “Habrocomes’ use of the feminine suggests that he envisages the role of eromenos to Corymbus’ erastes as emasculating him so completely that it will result in a figurative sex change” (2012: 206).

Thus, sophrosyne is of utmost importance to Habrocomes, as it allows him to preserve his masculine identity. He even swears by sophrosyne with a μὰ construction, most common with deities (Smyth §2894). Habrocomes has thus identified sophrosyne as a quasi-divine personified virtue that allows him to be not a whore but a man.

Habrocomes also states that if he cannot maintain his sophrosyne by staying with Anthia and not submitting to Corymbus, he will kill himself and become a corpse with sophrosyne. This marks the first time in which Habrocomes has defined sophrosyne in a way that necessitates suicide if it cannot be kept in any other way. Anthia had promised suicide if there is no other way to preserve her sophrosyne at 1.11.5. This marks a further development of Habrocomes’ definition of sophrosyne; his and Anthia’s definitions of sophrosyne become increasingly similar, which further suggests that their sufferings are making them into a more symmetrical couple.

33πόρνος is emended by Praechter to ἄπορος, and printed by Goold 1995. Πόρνος seems to me the right reading, as the suitors already delivered an insult about poverty. Thus one which insults Chaereas sexually seems more likely. 34

Slavery vs. Freedom

In Aelius Theon’s discussion of the different types of characters, he states that there is a difference in the way a slave and a free person talk on account of their fortune (τύχη; Prog. 116).

In the first lament scene of the novel, as discussed above, Habrocomes laments his defeat by

Eros, which through the metaphor of militia amoris is figured as a military defeat and thus a loss of masculinity. In his first lament, he refuses to surrender to Eros and to be “forced to be a slave to a girl” (1.4.1 παρθένῳ δουλεύειν ἀναγκάζομαι). Habrocomes does surrender and when he is kidnapped by pirates, the hypothetical, metaphorical slavery becomes reality. Owens argues that the servitium amoris foreshadows their literal slavery (2020: 29). In this next section of the novel, Habrocomes seeks to define for himself the difference between freedom and slavery.

Whereas before at 1.4 he had contrasted servitium amoris with actual slavery, here he contrasts metaphorical freedom with actual slavery. He suggests that although his body is enslaved, his soul is free and thus he can still keep his sophrosyne, despite his loss of agency.

When Manto, the chief pirate’s daughter, tells Leucon, Habrocomes’s fellow slave, that she is in love with Habrocomes, Leucon recommends that he give in to Manto.34 Habrocomes’ reply, although not strictly a lament, is nonetheless an emotional outburst in which he contrasts his enslaved body and his free soul, which is important for understanding his development as a character:

ὦ πονηρὲ … καὶ Φοινίκων τῶν ἐνταῦθα βαρβαρώτερε, ἐτόλμησας εἰπεῖν πρὸς Ἁβροκόμην τοιαῦτα ῥήματα καὶ παρούσης Ἀνθίας ἄλλην παρθένον μοι διηγῇ; δοῦλος μέν εἰμι ἀλλὰ συνθήκας οἶδα τηρεῖν. ἔχουσιν ἐξουσίαν μου τοῦ σώματος, τὴν ψυχὴν δὲ ἐλευθέραν ἔχω. ἀπειλείτω νῦν, εἰ θέλει, Μαντὼ ξίφη καὶ βρόχους καὶ πῦρ καὶ πάντα ὅσα

34 Owens 2020: 30–31 suggests that this is because Leucon has been a slave and is giving his former master practical instruction in how to be a slave. Xenophon “uses their [Leucon’s and Rhode’s] pragmatism toward their new pirate masters as a foil for the elite idealism of the newly enslaved protagonists” (Owens 2020: 30). 35

δύναται σῶμα ἀναγκάσαι οἰκέτου· οὐ γὰρ ἄν ποτε πεισθείην ἑκὼν Ἀνθίαν ἀδικῆσαι. (2. 4. 3–5)

Bad man … even more barbaric than the Phoenicians here, did you dare to say such words to Habrocomes and, when Anthia is here, do you describe another girl to me? I am a slave, but I know how to keep agreements. They have power over my body, but I have a free soul. Now let Manto threaten, if she wants, swords and nooses and fire and all the things which have power to force a body of a slave. I could never willingly be persuaded to wrong Anthia.

In this speech, Habrocomes fashions a metaphorical freedom for himself. Even though he is a slave, he knows how to maintain his sophrosyne. Habrocomes defines Leucon as “more barbaric than the Phoenicians” because he made the practical suggestion of giving in to Manto.

Habrocomes asserts that his “free soul” knows how to keep the oath which he made in 1.11 and equates his freedom with his ability to preserve his sophrosyne. Thus, although he is a slave, he will keep his freedom in his soul by maintaining sophrosyne.

When Apsyrtus, Manto’s father, discovers that Manto is lying, he frees Habrocomes and offers to put him in charge of his household. He responds: “But thank you, master, because you learned the truth and you rewarded me for my sophrosyne” (2.10.3 ἀλλὰ χάρις σοι, δέσποτα, ὅτι

καὶ τὸ ἀληθὲς ἔμαθες καὶ τῆς σωφροσύνης ἀμείβῃ με). He thus recognizes that his sophrosyne was the reason for his freedom. By preserving his sophrosyne as a means to metaphorical freedom in literal slavery, Habrocomes is able to produce literal freedom.

After receiving his freedom, Habrocomes laments:

τί δὲ ἐλευθερίας ἐμοί; τί δὲ πλούτων καὶ ἐπιμελείας τῶν Ἀψύρτου χρημάτων; οὐ τοιοῦτον εἶναί με δεῖ· ἐκείνην ἢ ζῶσαν ἢ τεθνεῶσαν εὕροιμι. (2.10.3)

What freedom do I have? What wealth and care for the goods of Apsyrtus? I should not be like that. I wish I could find her alive or dead.

In this passage, Habrocomes changes his definition of freedom. In the earlier passage, his metaphorical freedom consisted in the ability to keep his oath to maintain his sophrosyne. Now

36 that Habrocomes has literal freedom, he now changes his definition to being with Anthia. A life of wealth or being in charge of Apsyrtus’s household will not do. Thus, Habrocomes defines separation from Anthia as a metaphorical slavery; in other words, he redefines his freedom as servitium amoris. His main priority for the rest of the novel is finding Anthia and proving his sophrosyne through suffering. This devotion to finding Anthia is a kind of slavery, and

Habrocomes compares some of the hard labor he must endure to find her to slavery.

Finding Anthia: Self-Fashioning through Suffering

When Anthia goes with Manto to be her slave after Manto is wedded to Moeris,

Habrocomes laments, contrasting his present misfortune with his former happiness:

ὦ πάτερ … φίλτατε, ὦ μῆτερ Θεμιστώ· ποῦ μὲν ἡ ἐν Ἐφέσῳ δοκοῦσά ποτε εὐδαιμονία; ποῦ δὲ οἱ λαμπροὶ καὶ οἱ περιβλεπτοι Ἀνθία καὶ Ἁβροκόμης, οἱ καλοί; ἡ μὲν οἴχεται πόρρω ποι τῆς γῆς αἰχμάλωτος, ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ τὸ μόνον ἀφῄρημαι παραμύθιον, καὶ τεθνήξομαι δυστυχὴς ἐν δεσμωτηρίῳ μόνος. (2. 8.1) Dearest father … mother Themisto, where is the happiness that seemed to exist once in Ephesus? Where are the brilliant and the admired Anthia and Habrocomes, the beautiful? She is going forth somewhere in the world as a prisoner, I am deprived of my only consolation, and I, ill-fated, will die alone in prison.

This lament is similar to one of the speech-types which Theon recommends for composing prosopopoeia: what a husband might say to a wife when he is leaving for war (Prog. 115). Here it is the wife leaving the husband; Anthia is going not to war but abroad as a slave. Habrocomes apostrophizes his parents and looks at the past, a common motif with laments (Birchall 1996:

10). Habrocomes contrasts his present circumstances where Anthia is being taken away from him with the circumstances in Book 1. Now that Anthia is gone, Habrocomes will die alone.

Habrocomes is so distraught that he does not consider how he can stay faithful to Anthia, but merely laments that she is going away.

When Habrocomes has heard that Anthia has been kidnapped by pirates after her suicide attempt,35 he laments that the pirates have taken Anthia’s corpse so that he cannot bury himself with her:

Τίς ἄρα λῃστὴς οὕτως ἐρωτικός, ἵνα καὶ νεκρᾶς ἐπιθυμήσῃ σου; ἵνα καὶ τὸ σῶμα ἀφέληται; ἀπεστερήθην ὁ δυστυχὴς καὶ σου, τῆς μόνης ἐμοὶ παραμυθίας. ἀποθανεῖν μὲν οὖν ἔγνωσται πάντως· ἀλλὰ τὰ πρῶτα καρτερήσω, μέχρι που τὸ σῶμα εὕρω τὸ σὸν καὶ περιβαλὼν ἐμαυτὸν ἐκείνῳ συγκαταθάψω. (3.10.2–3) What pirate is so in love that he desires you even as a corpse? So that he even steals your body? I, the ill-fated, was deprived even of you, my only consolation. Therefore, it has been absolutely decided to die. But first, I will be strong, until perhaps I find your body and I may throw myself around it and bury myself with it.

Habrocomes states the reason why he will not die, as both he and Anthia had decided was best at

2.1.6, where Anthia insists,36 “Let us die, Habrocomes. We will hold each other after death”

(ἀποθνῄσκωμεν, Ἁβροκόμη. ἕξομεν ἀλλήλους μετὰ θάνατον). In Habrocomes’ speech,

“hold[ing] each other” becomes the most important thing. Habrocomes resolves to “be strong” until he can find Anthia and be with her. Habrocomes sees his goal in the second half of the novel as living long enough to find Anthia, or at least her body, and if she is dead, to bury himself with her. This is what he considers “being strong.” The verb καρτερέω (“be strong”) is used, as discussed in Chapter 1, by Plato in the context of men not lamenting private griefs (Pl.

Rep. 605d9). Habrocomes uses that verb also in 1.4, as shown above, where he resolves to not be conquered by Eros. Here Habrocomes uses this verb which he has hitherto used as a pledge to resist love and stop lamenting as a call to endure until he can be united with his beloved.

Habrocomes uses this verb to suggest that endurance can be seen as a masculine trait. This is the goal for Habrocomes: maintain his sophrosyne until he can find Anthia again.

35 I will discuss this scene in detail in the next chapter. 36 I will discuss Anthia’s speech in 2.1 more fully in the next chapter. 38

After Habrocomes hears Aegialeus’s story of losing Thelxinoe and how Aigialeus preserved Thelxinoe’s body and keeps it in bed with him, Habrocomes interrupts Aegialeus and addresses Anthia in a lament which reaffirms his commitment to keep searching until he finds her:

σὲ δὲ … ὦ πασῶν δυστυχεστάτη κόρη, πότε ἀνευρήσω κἂν νεκράν; Αἰγιαλεῖ μὲν γὰρ τοῦ βίου μεγάλη παραμυθία τὸ σῶμα τὸ Θελξινόης, καὶ νῦν ἀληθῶς μεμάθηκα ὅτι ἔρως ἀληθινὸς ὅρον ἡλικίας οὐκ ἔχει· ἐγὼ δὲ πλανῶμαι μὲν κατὰ πᾶσαν γῆν καὶ θάλασσαν, οὐ δεδύνημαι δὲ οὐδὲ ἀκοῦσαι περὶ σοῦ. (5.1. 12–13)

Will I ever find you … most ill-fated girl of all, even if as a corpse? To Aegialeus, the body of Thelxinoe is a great consolation of his life, and now I have truly learned that true love has no age limit. I am wandering through every land and sea, but I have not been able to hear anything about you.

Here Habrocomes presents his circumstances as an occasion for paideia, in that he has learned something: true love has no time limit. From the passage discussed immediately above (3.10. 2–

3), it is clear that Habrocomes already knows that he needs to find Anthia’s body.37 But he also knows that even if this search takes a long time, he will still love her. By referencing “wandering every land and sea,” Habrocomes likens himself to Odysseus, as Hunter argues (1996: 191).

Habrocomes decides that he must keep wandering so that he may find Anthia, just as Odysseus finds Penelope.38 Habrocomes thus sees searching for Anthia as a heroic act with heroic antecedents.

37 Xian 2018 performs an intratextual reading of these two passages and also includes a larger discussion of the usefulness of intratextual reading of the novel. I hope that this thesis’s close reading of the lament scenes in X. Eph. also demonstrates the latter. 38 This complicates Tagliabue’s assertion that Anthia is equivalent to both Penelope and Odysseus in 5.14.1–4, and that Habrocomes is denied any epic predecessors (2017: 41). While it is true that Anthia’s speech does share much with the recognition scene in the Odyssey (Tagliabue 2017: 39–43), this passage makes it clear that Habrocomes also shares characteristics with Odysseus and that therefore both characters should be seen as having characteristics of Odysseus, and Anthia traits of Penelope as well. 39

While Habrocomes is desperately searching all over the Eastern Mediterranean world for news of Anthia, the narrator gives a description of how important Anthia is to Habrocomes and why he has been spending a good deal of time searching for her: “For she was the basis for his whole life and his wandering (5.8.2 αὕτη γὰρ ἦν αὐτῷ τοῦ βίου παντὸς καὶ τῆς πλάνης ἡ

ὑπόθεσις). The noun ὑπόθεσις has various meta-literary meanings, ranging from the subject or plot of a literary work to the literary work itself (LSJ II. s.v. ὑπόθεσις: “subject (proposed for discussion); case at law, lawsuit; subject of a poem or treatise, plot, story; speech; a kind of play or pantomime”). The word πλάνη also has associations with the Odyssey, as seen in its cognate verb in the lament in 5.1, discussed above. Therefore, figuratively Anthia is the “plot of his

Odyssey and his life.” Habrocomes sees fidelity to Anthia as worth all his effort.

When Habrocomes runs out of money after sailing all over the eastern Mediterranean trying to find Anthia, he hires himself out to work stone. While working, he apostrophizes

Anthia and compares the labor he is performing to slavery:

ἰδοὺ … Ἀνθία, ὁ σὸς Ἁβροκόμης ἐργάτης τέχνης πονηρᾶς καὶ τὸ σῶμα ὑποτέθεικα δουλείᾳ· καὶ εἰ μὲν εἶχόν τινα ἐλπίδα εὑρήσειν σε καὶ τοῦ λοιποῦ συγκαταβιώσασθαι, τοῦτο πάντων ἄμεινόν με παρεμυθεῖτο· νυνὶ δὲ ἴσως κἀγὼ δυστυχὴς εἰς κενὰ καὶ ἀνόνητα πονῶ, καὶ σύ που τέθνηκας πόθῳ τῷ πρὸς Ἁβροκόμην. Πέπεισμαι γὰρ, φιλτάτη, ὡς οὐκ ἄν ποτε οὐδὲ ἀποθανοῦσα ἐκλάθοιόμου. (5.8.3–4) Behold … Anthia, your Habrocomes is a worker of tortorous labor and I have subjected my body to slavery. And if I had any hope that I would find you and live the rest of my life with you, this would have consoled me better than everything. Perhaps now I am wretchedly toiling in vain, and you have perhaps died because of your longing for Habrocomes. For I believe, dearest, that you would never forget me, even if you should die. Habrocomes stresses that it is worth working like a real slave because of his metaphorical servitium amoris if he can find Anthia again. This endurance is critical to his masculine identity, since it is how masculine characters in the novel prove their loyalty to their beloved. Thus, this address to the absent Anthia is in effect an address to Habrocomes to reassure himself that

Anthia is the point of his suffering. Habrocomes constructs his identity as tied so completely to

Anthia that he now addresses her and in so doing reassures himself.

A little later, Habrocomes gets tired of this hard labor and decides to sail home to

Ephesus. When he got close to Ephesus, he begins to lament his misfortunes:

φεῦ … τῶν κακῶν· εἰς Ἔφεσον ἵξομαι μόνος καὶ πατράσιν ὀφθήσομαι τοῖς ἐμαυτοῦ χωρὶς Ἀνθίας καὶ πλεύσομαι πλοῦν ὁ δυστυχὴς κενὸν καὶ διηγήσομαι διηγήματα ἴσως ἄπιστα, κοινωνὸν ὧν πέπονθα οὐκ ἔχων· ἀλλὰ καρτέρησον, Ἁβροκόμη, καὶ γενόμενος ἐν Ἐφέσῳ τοσοῦτον ἐπιβίωσον χρόνον· τάφον ἔγειρον Ἀνθίᾳ καὶ θρήνησον αὐτὴν καὶ χοὰς ἐπένεγκαι καὶ σαυτὸν ἤδη παρ’ αὐτὴν ἄγε. (5. 10.4–5)

Alas … for misfortunes! I will arrive alone into Ephesus and I will be seen by my parents without Anthia and I will sail a voyage in vain wretchedly and will tell perhaps unbelievable stories, having no companion for the things which I have suffered. But, be strong, Habrocomes, and when you are in Ephesus live for as long as it takes. Raise a tomb for Anthia and mourn her and pour libations and lead yourself to her already. As we have seen, kartereo has gone from being a verb which prohibits lamentation to a verb which encourages a specific kind of lamentation, one in which Habrocomes vows to endure.

Habrocomes constructs his goal in life as enduring through misfortunes until he can find Anthia either dead or alive. Habrocomes is eventually united with Anthia, and because of his endurance, he successfully proves his fidelity to her.

The lament scenes in Xenophon’s novel are evidence that there is an important shift in the way in which Habrocomes constructs his identity. In the beginning, he sees being in love and lamentation as a feminine trait, calling himself unmanly for being in love. Then, after being kidnapped by pirates and asked to engage in pederasty with a pirate, he views his faithfulness to

Anthia as all-important, asserting that if he should be unfaithful to her by sleeping with

Corymbus he would lose his masculine identity and become “a whore instead of a man.” In the last half of the novel, after he is separated from Anthia, finding Anthia becomes essential for him. Habrocomes’ laments become important scenes in which he defines himself rhetorically. He

41 changes from someone who refuses to love to someone who wanders around the Mediterranean in search of his beloved.

Chapter 3: τί ταῦτα θρηνῶ: Anthia’s Self-Fashioning in Lament Scenes

Towards the end of Xenophon’s Ephesiaca, when Anthia is forced to be a prostitute after she is sold to a pimp by a jealous wife after her husband fell in love with her, she begins to lament:

οὐχ ἱκαναὶ γὰρ αἱ πρότερον συμφοραί, τὰ δεσμά, τὰ λῃστήρια, ἀλλ’ ἔτι καὶ πορνεύειν ἀναγκάζομαι. ὦ κάλλος δικαίως ὑβρισμένον· τί γὰρ ἡμῖν ἀκαίρως παραμένεις; (5.7.2)

The earlier misfortunes are not enough: the chains, the pirate lairs, but I am still forced to be a prostitute! O beauty rightly wronged! Why do you stay by me at the wrong time?

Anthia summarizes all the misfortunes which she has suffered throughout the rest of the novel: slavery, pirates, and now she is also a prostitute. These sorts of summaries are common in novelistic lament scenes; they remind the character and the reader of all the bad things which have happened so far (Anderson 2017:10). Anthia denounces her beauty, saying that it was rightly mistreated by acts of hybris, because it stayed with her at the wrong time. This is an oddly self-deprecating thing to say. But then she interrupts her own lament with a call to be practical:

ἀλλὰ τί ταῦτα θρηνῶ καὶ οὐχ εὑρίσκω τινὰ μηχανὴν δι’ ἧς φυλάξω τὴν μέχρι νῦν σωφροσύνην τετηρημένην; (5.7.2)

But why do I make these lamentations and not find some strategem through which I may guard the sophrosyne which has been guarded until now?

Anthia realizes that lamentation will not on its own help her protect her sophrosyne. She needs to find some trick or stratagem (mechane) in order to keep men who are not Habrocomes from sleeping with her. Anthia feigns epilepsy and makes up a whole story of how she got it (5.7.7–9).

This ability to make up stories on the spot suggests thematic intertextual engagement with the

Odyssey. The use of a mechane suggests the “multiplication of the stratagem of the loom”

(Tagliabue 2017:75). In her use of tricks and deceit to protect her sophrosyne, Anthia exhibits similar characteristics as Penelope. Since her mechane involves lying speech, she also invokes 43

Odysseus, who in the second half of the Odyssey tells many lying tales to prevent the suitors from discovering who he is. Tagliabue argues that Anthia’s use of topoi common to both

Odysseus and Penelope, suggests that “fidelity … is presented as the new kind of heroism proper to this novel” (2017:40). Anthia acknowledges that lamentation is not enough; she uses mechanai and words to protect her sophrosyne.

In her lament scenes Anthia increasingly emphasizes the importance of using active tricks or tools to protect her sophrosyne against the various barbarians, pirates, pimps, et al. who threaten her. Through her lament scenes, Anthia constructs her identity. In the beginning of the novel, she casts herself as a girl with limited agency and chides Habrocomes for his lack of initiative, then takes the initiative herself on her wedding night. Then, in 1.11, Anthia vows to protect her sophrosyne at all costs, even if that requires suicide. After she is enslaved, she contemplates suicide as the only way out.

Taking Initiative: Anthia’s Self-Fashioning at the Beginning of the Novel

After Anthia sees Habrocomes at a festival, Anthia makes her first lament, one which foreshadows her ability to take the initiative when things seem hopeless:

τί … ὤ δυστυχὴς πέπονθα; παρθένος παρ’ ἡλικίαν ἐρῶ καὶ ὀδυνῶμαι καινὰ καὶ κόρῃ μὴ πρέποντα. ἐφ’ Ἁβροκόμῃ μαίνομαι, καλῷ μέν, ἀλλ’ ὑπερηφάνῳ. καὶ τίς ἔσται ὁ τῆς ἐπιθυμίας ὅρος καὶ τί τὸ πέρας τοῦ κακοῦ; σοβαρὸς οὗτος ἐρώμενος, παρθένος ἐγὼ φρουρουμένη. τίνα βοηθὸν λήψομαι; τίνι πάντα κοινώσομαι; ποῦ δὲ Ἁβροκόμην ὄψομαι; (Xen. Eph. 1. 4. 6 –7)

Why … have I suffered wretchedly? I, an unmarried girl, love not proper to my age and I make laments which are new and not proper for a girl. I am crazy for Habrocomes, who is handsome, but arrogant. And what will be the end of my desire and what the limit of my illness? My beloved is proud; I am a guarded girl. What help will I receive? To whom shall I confide everything? Where will I see Habrocomes?

Anthia first emphasizes the seeming impossibility of marrying Habrocomes stemming from her age, the social norms which prohibit interaction between the sexes, and Habrocomes’ reputation 44 for pride.39 Then Anthia does what she often does in her lament scenes: she poses a series of rhetorical questions which ask how it can happen anyway. In this case, she desires to see

Habrocomes again, knowing that seeing him will help the process along.

In fact, her lamentation does help her marry Habrocomes. She continues to be love-sick, even to the point of near-death (1.5.9), but she cannot tell her parents what is wrong, due to the social norms that she is lamenting. But the priests and doctors that her parents bring in can’t tell what is the matter (1.5.7). Anthia’s and Habrocomes parents go to visit the oracle of Apollo, which sets in motion the entire plot.40 Thus, her lamentation and the attending lovesickness are the catalyst that drives the novel’s plot. Anthia’s passive-aggressive lamentation and sadness help her get around social norms of separation of the sexes and allow her to marry Habrocomes.

On their wedding night, Anthia chides Habrocomes for waiting too long to ask her to marry him and for considering his own beauty greater than hers:

ναί … Ἀβροκόμη, δοκῶ σοι καλή; καὶ μετὰ τὴν σὴν εὐμορφίαν ἀρέσκω σοι; ἄνανδρε καὶ δειλέ, πόσον ἐβράδυνας ἐρῶν χρόνον, πόσον ἠμέλ<λ>ησας; ἀπὸ τῶν ἐμαυτῆς κακῶν ἃ πέπονθας οἶδα. ἀλλ’ ἰδού,, δάκρυα μἐν ὐποδέχου τἀμά, καὶ ἡ καλή σου κόμη πινέτω πόμα τὸ ἐρωτικὸν, καὶ συμφύντες ἀλλήλοις ἀναμιγῶμεν, καταβρέχωμεν δὲ καὶ τοὺς στεφάνους τοῖς παρ’ ἀλλήλων δάκρυσιν, ἵν’ ἡμῖν καὶ οὗτοι συνερῶσιν. (1. 9. 4–5)

Yes … Habrocomes, do I seem beautiful to you? Do I also please you after your beauty? Unmanly coward, how much time did you delay even though you were in love? How long did you hesitate? I know the sicknesses which you suffered from my own. But behold, receive my tears. And let your beautiful hair drink the love potion, and let us unite and let us have intercourse, and let us drench our garlands with each other’s tears, in order that they too may love together with us.

39 Anthia is unaware that Habrocomes has just lamented as well, an example of dramatic irony, a frequent device in Xenophon’s novel. 40 Whitmarsh argues that the oracle “is not simply proleptic, but kinetic: it is to ‘appease’ this oracle (and for no other reason) that the parents send their children abroad. It is, literally, a self-fulfilling prophecy” (2011: 199). Tagliabue provides an important analysis of the oracle which emphasizes its proleptic function (2017:53–77). 45

Anthia faults Habrocomes for lack of andreia (ἄνανδρος) and accuses him of being δεῖλος,41 which Sommerstein calls “the regular antonym of ἀνδρεῖος” (2013 ad Men. Sam. 65). She thus doubly accuses Habrocomes of cowardice and unmanliness. Then Anthia takes the initiative which she reproves Habrocomes for not taking by suggesting they consummate their marriage.

Anthia thus fashions her ability to fix what needs fixing, even if this requires taking the initiative in erotic matters and assuming characteristics which are associated with ἀνδρεία.42 This foreshadows the important role that Anthia will have in the narrative of books 3–5, which

Tagliabue sees as her taking on the role of Penelope in actively warding off suitors (2011b: 137–

49). Anthia claims that she has more ἀνδρεία than Habrocomes on their wedding night, and repeatedly throughout the novel, Anthia proves her ἀνδρεία in using whatever means necessary to preserve her sophrosyne.

Protecting Sophrosyne: Her New Purpose

As discussed in Ch. 1, Aelius Theon remarks that “those who have sophrosyne” and

“those who are in love” speak differently “on account of their disposition” (Prog. 116 κατὰ δὲ

διάθεσιν ἐρῶντι καὶ σωφρονοῦντι). By sophrosyne, Theon probably means “self-control” and particularly “sexual self-control” or “chastity” here and not the specific novelistic meaning of

“fidelity.” Patillon’s translation of σωφρονοῦντι as “maître de soi” (“master of himself”) certainly suggests that this is the case. Nevertheless, although sophrosyne does not mean the same thing for Theon as it does for Xenophon, he frequently contrasts Anthia’s and

41 Carey 1989: 144 notes that the penalty for δειλία in Athens in the fourth century BCE was “loss of citizen rights.” While legal circumstances were different in Imperial times, this is suggestive of how damning a charge this is. 42 Jones 2007 includes a useful discussion of ἀνδρεία in the novel. It is considered especially proper for a woman to exercise ἀνδρεία in the defense of σωφροσύνη. See also Jones 2012. 46

Habrocomes’ sophrosyne with the eros of the people who would like to sleep with them.

Anthia’s lament scenes often interrogate what it means to have sophrosyne; she contrasts her own fidelity with the desire of those who fall in love with her.

After their wedding night, Anthia swears an oath that she will always have sophrosyne, and if that ever becomes impossible, she will kill herself. Anthia’s speech follows Habrocomes’s speech (1.11.4) that I analyzed in Ch. 2. Anthia is so indignant that he would even suggest that she would ever be unfaithful to him that “she cried” (ἀνωλόλυξε). While this is not strictly speaking a lament, the oath scene establishes the importance of sophrosyne for the rest of the novel:

τί ταῦτα … Ἁβροκόμη; πεπίστευκας ὅτι ἐὰν ἀπαλλαγῶ σου, περὶ ἀνδρὀς ἔτι καὶ γάμου σκέψομαι, ἥτις οὐδὲ ζήσομαι τὴν ἄρχὴν ἄνευ σοῦ; ὡς ὀμνύω τέ σοι τὴν πάτριον ἡμῖν θεόν, τὴν μεγάλην Ἐφεσίων Ἄρτεμιν, καὶ ταύτην ἣν διανύομεν θάλατταν καὶ τὸν ἐπ’ ἀλλήλοις, ἡμᾶς καλῶς ἐκμήναντα θεὸν, ὡς ἐγὼ καὶ βραχὺ τι ἀποσπασθεῖσα σου οὔτε ζήσομαι οὔτε τὸν ἥλιον ὄψομαι. (1.11. 5)

Why are you saying these things … Habrocomes? Do you believe that if I am separated from you, I will still consider a husband and a marriage, I who will not live even the beginning without you? How I swear to you by the goddess of our fatherland, the great Artemis of the Ephesians, and by this sea which we finished sailing, and the god who made us quite crazy for each other, that if I am separated from you even for a short time, I will not live nor will I see the sun.

Anthia is shocked that Habrocomes would even suggest that she would ever remarry or live if she should ever be separated from him. Anthia’s decision to not “see the sun” becomes an important phrase for her and she uses it three times when she contemplates suicide (1.11.5,2.1.6,

3.8.2). This phrase becomes an important intratextual reminder of the oath scene. Anthia’s sophrosyne, as a symbol of her commitment to Habrocomes, is more important than her life.

Although, she does not in fact kill herself, this oath becomes an important reminder of her commitment to Habrocomes, which she recalls often during her lament scenes, using “see the sun” or other intratextual echoes.

When Euxeinus, a pirate by whom Anthia and Habrocomes are captured, falls in love with Anthia, she vows to maintain her sophrosyne, reasserting her commitment to the oath she swore:

‘φεῦ τῶν κακῶν … ταχέως γε τῶν ὅρκων ἀνα<μνησθῆναι ἀνα>γκαζόμεθα, ταχέως τῆς δουλείας πειρώμεθα· ἐρᾷ τις ἐμοῦ καὶ πείσειν ἐλπίζει {καὶ} εἰς εὐνὴν ἐλεύσεσθαι τὴν ἐμὴν μετὰ Ἁβροκόμην καὶ συγκατακλιθήσεσθαι καὶ ἀπολαύσειν {τῆς} ἐπιθυμίας. ἀλλὰ μὴ οὕτως ἐγὼ φιλόζωος γενοίμην μηδ’ ὑπομείναιμι ὑβρισθεῖσα ἰδεῖν τὸν ἥλιον. δεδόχθω ταῦτα· ἀποθνῄσκωμεν, Ἀβροκόμη. ἕξομεν ἀλλήλους μετὰ θάνατον, ὑπ’ οὐδενὸς ἐνοχλούμενοι.’ (2.1.5–6)

Alas because of evils! … For quickly we are the oaths, quickly we are experiencing slavery. For someone desires me and expects to persuade me and to go into my bed after Habrocomes and to lie down with me and to enjoy his passion. But may I not be so life-loving and see the sun after being violated. Let these things be established. Let us die, Habrocomes. We will hold each other after death, disturbed by no one.

Anthia here draws a contrast between two different sets of Theon’s categories of characterization: slaves vs. freed people, and people with sophrosyne vs. those who are in love.

She states that since slaves have no bodily autonomy, they have little choice but to submit to their masters who feel eros towards them. Thus, slavery and sophrosyne seem mutually exclusive categories. Indeed, Owens states that the “sexual penetrability of the slave body defined a social and legal boundary between free and slave” (2020: 35). While she was free, she vowed to have sophrosyne, but now in her present slavery it is difficult to maintain her bodily autonomy, to be true to her marriage vows and the oath which she swore in 1.11.43 Anthia does not contemplate any active way of resisting at this stage of the narrative and thus she contemplates suicide as the only answer.

43 She recalls 1.11 by using the phrase “see the sun” (ἰδεῖν τὸν ἥλιον) 48

servitium amoris vs. Literal Slavery

The next section of the novel continues its concern with the contrast between free people and slaves and between those who are feel eros and those who have sophrosyne. As Owens argues: “Outside the fiction of the novel, in the world of real slavery, it would have been against all odds that Xenophon’s heroine manages to elude her would-be rapists again and again” (2020:

36). It is a seemingly impossible task that Anthia undertakes in her sophrosyne while being a slave. Anthia reflects on this impossibility and constructs a way out by developing her servitium amoris to Habrocomes as an alternative slavery more important to her than literal slavery.

After Manto divulges that she wants to sleep with Habrocomes, Anthia advises

Habrocomes to comply with her request. This lament immediately follows Habrocomes’ statement (2.4. 2–4), which I analyzed in Ch. 2, that he may be a slave, but he still intends to keep his oath of sophrosyne. Anthia laments the seeming impossibility of maintaining their sophrosyne in the midst of slavery and seems to concede that Habrocomes should sleep with

Manto:

ἔχω μέν … Ἁβροκόμη, τὴν εὔνοιαν τὴν σὴν καὶ στέργεσθαι διαφερόντως ὑπὸ σοῦ πεπίστευκα, ἀλλὰ δέομαι σου, τῆς ψυχῆς καὶ τῆς ἐμῆς δέσποτα, μὴ προδῷς ἑαυτὸν μηδὲ εἰς ὀργὴν ἐμβάλῃς βαρβαρικὴν, συγκατάθου δὲ τῇ τῆς δεσποίνης ἐπιθυμίᾳ· κἀγὼ ὑμῖν ἄπειμι ἐκποδών, ἐμαυτὴν ἀποκτείνασα. τοσοῦτόν σου δεήσομαι· θάψον αὐτὸς καὶ φίλησον πεσοῦσαν καὶ μέμνησο Ἀνθίας. (2.4.5–6).

I … have your affection, Habrocomes, and I trust that I am loved by you in an outstanding way, but I ask you, master of even my soul, don’t betray yourself nor throw yourself against the anger of a barbarian, but submit to the passion of your mistress. And I will go out of the way from you all and kill myself. I ask this much of you: bury me yourself and kiss me after I fall and remember Anthia.

In this lament, Anthia calls Habrocomes her master. This use of the servitium amoris topos is unusual. First, it is ironic. Anthia tells Habrocomes that he should sleep with his literal mistress, and in the same breath calls Habrocomes her master. The mixing of metaphorical servitium

49 amoris with the dynamics of actual slavery is at first glance incongruous. Anthia could be saying that she will get herself out of the way so that Habrocomes can be with Manto.

But I prefer to read this lament as in intratextual dialogue with Habrocomes’s speech, to which Anthia’s speech is a direct answer.44 In that speech Habrocomes claims, “I am a slave, but

I know how to honor agreements. They have authority over my body, but I have a free soul”

(2.4.4 δοῦλος μέν εἰμι, ἀλλὰ συνθήκας οἶδα τηρεῖν. ἔχουσιν ἐξουσίαν μου τοῦ σώματος, τὴν

ψυχὴν δὲ ἐλευθέραν ἔχω). By calling Habrocomes “master” of her “soul” Anthia claims that her soul is enslaved to Habrocomes, who has just asserted the freedom of his soul. If Habrocomes has a “free soul,” Anthia can be his slave instead of Apsyrtus’. Thus, Anthia subverts the very slavery which she is currently in and asserts that Habrocomes is her real master, not Manto’s father, Apsyrtus. In other words, Habrocomes is not her literal master, but the master she really cares about. Thus, even if he should have to sleep with Manto, Habrocomes would not do it willingly and thus he would still keep his sophrosyne by burying Anthia. If we read this speech this way, Anthia thus maintains that metaphorical servitium amoris takes precedence over actual slavery. Anthia fashions for herself a freedom from slavery in a way that is different from

Habrocomes’. As long as Habrocomes is Anthia’s metaphorical “master,” their actual status as slaves does not matter as much.

Anthia establishes that Habrocomes is more her master than actual masters by using the rhetoric of servitium amoris to contrast with her slavery. Thus, she is able to construct the importance of keeping her sophrosyne using whatever means necessary, even if that means

44 I use the method of Xian 2018 in using intratextual readings of lament scenes. Tagliabue argues that the “intratextual relationships” in Xenophon’s novel “indicate his artistic competence” (2017: 7). Sharrock 2000 provides an insightful introduction to intratextuality for classicists. 50 acting like a slave (Owens 2020: 34–40). Anthia next must construct her identity in terms of a preferred marriage.

Οὐχ οὕτως ἄνανδρος ἐγώ: Anthia’s Self-Fashioning to Avoid Re-marriage

The story of Anthia’s attempted suicide by poison (3.5.1–3. 8.7) includes the most lament scenes in the novel. In the space of approximately five Teubner pages, Anthia laments five times and Perilaus once. The marked deployment of lamentations invites the reader to pause here and consider the importance of this scene. Anthia contrasts her impending nuptials with Perilaus with her wedding to Habrocomes. Nuptial imagery abounds throughout this passage, along with funerary imagery. Anthia sees death as the only way to preserve her marriage with Habrocomes.

When Perilaus, a barbarian ruler proposes marriage to her, Anthia has little choice but to accept, because “she was afraid that he might dare to do something more violent” (2.13.7:

δείσασα μὴ τι τολμήσῃ βιαιότερον). After she meets Eudoxus, a doctor from Ephesus who knows how to mix poisons, she resolves to kill herself instead of marrying Perilaus. Anthia goes as a suppliant to Eudoxus, who swears by Artemis to “do all she should need of him.” (3.5.5:

ξυμπρᾶξαι45 πάντα ὅσα ἄν αὐτοῦ δεηθῇ.) The narrator continues with a conversation reported in indirect speech which includes the beginnings of one of Anthia’s laments:

ἀνίστησιν αὐτὴν ὁ Εὔδοξος πολλὰ θρηνοῦσαν καὶ θαρρεῖν παρεκάλει καὶ ἐπώμνυε, πάντα ποιήσειν ὑπισχνούμενος. λέγει δὴ αὐτῷ τὸν Ἁβροκόμου ἔρωτα καὶ τοὺς ὅρκους τοὺς πρὸς ἐκεῖνον καὶ τὰς περὶ τῆς σωρφροσύνης συνθήκας. (3.5.6).

45 The use of the spelling ξυμ- instead of συμ-for the prefix is interesting. O’Sullivan 2005 in the app. crit. ad loc. notes that the spelling is hic tantum (here only). I would suggest that this the archaism is due to the oath. It could also be a reflection of the doctor using Ionic Greek because of his being influenced by medical writings (cf. the Hippocratic corpus). In the rest of Eudoxus’s speeches, there are no more syn compounds. If Xenophon is reflecting Eudoxus’s speech, he could be influenced by Aelius Theon (Prog. 116) who states that writers can also imitate the dialect of the speaker. 51

Eudoxus consoled her because she was lamenting a lot and he was encouraging her to rejoice and he swore and promised that he would do everything. She told him her love for Habrocomes and her oaths to him and the agreements about sophrosyne.

Anthia persuades Eudoxus to help her by lamenting and using the narrative of her sophrosyne and the oath which she swore as a reason why she must kill herself. This narrative wins over

Eudoxus, so that he listens to Anthia’s next speech in which she tells him more fully the reasons why she must kill himself.

This conversation continues with a justification for her upcoming suicide as well as some instructions for him. This is not a lament, but because it is part of the overall narrative and illustrates the way in which Anthia constructs her identity in order to persuade Eudoxus that suicide is the only option, it is relevant:

εἰ μὲν ἦν ζῶσαν … με ἀπολαβεῖν ζῶντα Ἁβροκόμην ἢ λαθεῖν ἀποδράσασαν ἐντεῦθεν, περὶ τούτων ἄν ἐβουλευόμην, ἐπειδὴ δὲ ὁ μὲν τέθνηκε, φυγεῖν δὲ ἀδύνατον καὶ τὸν μέλλοντα ἀμήχανον ὑπομεῖναι γάμον (οὔτε γὰρ τὰς συνθήκας παραβήσομαι τὰς πρὸς Ἀβροκόμην οὔτε τὸν ὅρκον ὕπερόψομαι), σὺ τοίνυν βοηθὸς ἡμῖν γενοῦ, φάρμακον εὐρών ποθεν ὃ κακῶν με ἀπαλλάξει τὴν κακοδαίμον. (3.5. 7–8)

If it were possible for me while alive … to bring Habrocomes back to life or to run away undetected then, I would plot about those things, but since he is dead, it is impossible to flee and it is hopeless to endure the coming wedding (for I will not violate the agreements with Habrocomes nor will I overlook the oath), you then be my helper, find a drug from somewhere which will distance unlucky me from my ills.

Anthia lays out in an elaborate conditional sentence the reason why she is killing herself, emphasizing that this is the only course of action left to her in order to preserve her fidelity to

Habrocomes and to her oath. This conditional is calculated to persuade Eudoxus that death is the only option. Here Anthia shows no signs of uncertainty about Habrocomes’ death, in contrast to

3.5.2–4, where she is uncertain whether Habrocomes is dead: “and perhaps he is dead” (ἴσως που

καὶ τέθνηκεν). There are a few possible reasons for not mentioning her uncertainty. One is that since Anthia is attempting to persuade Eudoxus to make poison for her, she is downplaying her

52 uncertainty and stating that the reality of Habrocomes’ death is more certain than it really is. Or perhaps through this lamentation Anthia has convinced herself even more of the hopelessness of

Habrocomes’s situation and she is now thoroughly convinced that he is dead. I think that the former is more likely, that she is making the certainty of Habrocomes’ death more clear in order to make the necessity of her death more convincing. Anthia shows no sign of emotional distress, even though she has just been lamenting. This suggests that Anthia is in control of the situation in actively attempting to convince Eudoxus of the necessity of her death.

Anthia bargains with Eudoxus, promising to provide a fee and a way for him to return to

Ephesus. She steals this money from Perilaus: “All his stuff was unbegrudgingly hers; she had authority over all Perilaus’ property” (3.5.9 ἦν δἔ αὐτῇ πάντα ἄφθονα· πάντων γὰρ ἐξουσίαν εἶχε

τῶν Περιλάου). Anthia abuses Perilaus’ trust and gives the money to Eudoxus. This is an illustration of how Anthia uses the tactics of a clever slave, a stock character from New Comedy in order to protect her sophrosyne, which is a part of her elite identity. Owens observes that

“Anthia is not Perilaus’ slave, but she is in her power” (2020: 36); nevertheless, he suggests that she uses the tactics of a slave in this scene of her apparent suicide.

This is a common characterization of Anthia. She laments, but then finds a way to get out of the difficult circumstances in which she is. In using the tactics of a clever slave, she does not act suicidal, but like a thinking, wise shrewd woman. Anthia fashions an escape from a barbarian marriage which would compromise her sophrosyne by making a calm, rational plan.

But Eudoxus “prepared not a deadly drug, but a sleep-inducing drug” (3.5.11 κομίζων

θανάσιμον οὐχὶ φάρμακον, ὑπνωτικὸν δὲ), because he “pities” her (3.5.9: οἰκτείρας). This pattern of characters “pitying” Anthia because she laments happens frequently in the second half of the novel. Its first occurrence is with the goatherd who had been ordered by Manto to kill her. 53

Anthia laments and the goatherd does not kill her but sells her to merchants (2.11. 3–11) At 4.6, when she is thrown into the pit after killing Anchialus, Anthia tells her story in a way that convinces Amphinomous to pity her, and he helps her to stay alive from the dogs. Here Eudoxus sees a possibility which Anthia does not see and prepares a means for her to fake her own death in order that she might escape her marriage to Perilaus without suicide. Anthia’s laments have helped Perilaus to find a better alternative.

When Anthia is about to drink the poison, which the readers know is not deadly but sleep-inducing (an instance of dramatic irony), she laments:

οὕτως ἐγὼ … πρότερον ἠγόμην Ἁβροκόμῃ νυμφίῳ, καὶ παρέμεμπεν ἡμᾶς πῦρ ἐρωτικόν, καὶ ὑμέναιος ἤγετο ἐπὶ γάμοις εὐδαίμοσι. νυνὶ δὲ τί ποιήσεις, Ἀνθία; ἀδικήσεις Ἁβροκόμην τὸν ἄνδρα, τὸν ἐρώμενον, τὸν διὰ σὲ τεθνηκότα; οὐχ οὕτως ἄνανδρος ἐγὼ οὐδὲ ἐν τοῖς κακοῖς δειλή. δεδόχθω ταῦτα· πίνωμεν τὸ φάρμακον· Ἁβροκόμην εἶναι μοι δεῖ ἄνδρα· ἐκεῖνον καὶ τεθνηκότα βούλομαι. (3.6.2–3)

In this way … before this I was led in marriage to Habrocomes the bridegroom, and the fire of love escorted us, and a marriage hymn was performed for fortunate weddings. But now what will you do, Anthia? Will you wrong your husband Habrocomes, your beloved, who died on your account? I am not so lacking in manly courage nor am I a coward in misfortunes. Let these things be established: Let us drink the drug. Habrocomes must be my husband. I want him even if he is dead.

Anthia then genders herself as masculine. She calls Habrocomes her ἐρώμενος, the passive form.

While Konstan’s theory of symmetry in the Greek novel suggests that both the active and passive can be used of the protagonists without distinction (1994: 14–59), Tagliabue uses Platonic parallels to show that Anthia is the active and Habrocomes is the passive lover as early as the events which lead up to the marriage (2017: 105–21).46 Anthia is emphasizing her active role in

46 See also my discussion of a 1.9.3 in Ch. 2 where I discuss Habrocomes’ use of the active word erastes on his wedding night. 54 protecting her sophrosyne. She characterizes herself as one who is not lacking ἀνδρεία,47 which I have translated as “manly courage” above. Jones asserts that the most legitimate time a woman can exercise ἀνδρεία is in defense of sophrosyne (2007: 116). Anthia fashions her suicide as an act of manly courage which is necessary in order to preserve her sophrosyne and which thereby shows that she is more manly than Habrocomes.

After Anthia is buried alive and she realizes that the poison was not deadly, Anthia then makes another lament:

ὢ ψευσάμενόν με τὸ φάρμακόν … ὢ κωλῦσαν ὁδεῦσαι πρὸς τὸν Ἁβροκόμην ὁδὸν εὐτυχῆ· ἐσφάλην ἄρα (πάντα καινά) καὶ τῆς επιθυμίας τοῦ θανάτου. ἀλλὰ ἔνεστί γε ἐν τῷ μείνασαν τὸ ἔργον ἐργάσασθαι τοῦ φαρμάκου λιμῷ· ού γὰρ <ἄν> ἐντεῦθεν μέ τις ἀνέλοιτο, οὐδ’ ἂν ἐπίδοιμι τὸν ἥλιον οὐδ [ἂν] εἰς φῶς ἐλεύσομαι. (3.8.1–2)

O drug that lied to me … O fortunate road that hindered me from going to Habrocomes. I was cheated of my desire for death (everything is strange)! But there is a possibility by staying of doing the job of the poison by starvation. For no one could find my corpse here, nor could I see the sun again nor will I go into daylight.

Anthia reaffirms her commitment to preserve her sophrosyne; the phrase “see the sun” is an intratextual echo of earlier passages which have to do with maintaining sophrosyne.48 Thus,

Anthia reminds herself that even through this set back, she can still kill herself and maintain her sophrosyne. Anthia, after one plan fails, reaffirms her commitment to be true to Habrocomes and vows to stay buried.

As a further setback in Anthia’s quest to kill herself, pirates kidnap her. On the boat, she laments that she is again kidnapped by pirates and finds herself a slave:

πάλιν … λῃσταὶ καὶ θάλασσα, πάλιν αἰχμάλωτος ἐγώ, ἀλλὰ νῦν δυστυχέστερον, ὅτι μὴ μετὰ Ἁβροκόμου. τίσ με ἄρα ὑποδέξεται γῆ; τίνας δὲ ἄνθρώπους ὄψομαι; μὴ Μοῖριν ἔτι,

47 This word is difficult to translate. Rosen and Sluiter 2003 is a collection of essays which deals with the multifaceted nature of this word. For the Greek novel, see Jones 2007a and 2012: 92–173. 48 e.g., 1.11.5 (the oath scene), 2.1.6 (the scene after Euxeinus and Corymbus declare their love for them). Both of these scenes have been discussed earlier in this chapter. 55

μὴ Μαντώ, μὴ Περιλαον, μὴ Κιλικίαν, ἔλθοιμι δὲ ἔνθα[δε] κἄν τάφον Ἁβροκόμου μόνον ὄψομαι. (3.8. 6–7)

Again … pirates and sea, again I am a prisoner, but now it is more unfortunate, because I am not with Habrocomes. What land then will receive me? What people shall I see? Not Moiris still, not Manto, not Perilaus, not Cilicia. I wish I could go there even if I will only see the grave of Habrocomes.

Anthia’s quest to commit suicide has been unsuccessful.She tried everything she could, and yet it all has been unfruitful. The reader, because of generic convention that everything will turn out well, knows that her failed suicide will allow for her reunion with Habrocomes. Whitmarsh discusses this tension between two senses of the word telos, the end of a literary work and death.

The characters want one kind of end (death) but generic conventions require another (2009;

2011: 177–213). The reader knows that this seemingly endless narrative does in fact have an end and that it is necessary that her attempts to commit suicide have been unsuccessful.

While Anthia’s attempts to kill herself are unsuccessful, she has successfully kept her sophrosyne by avoiding marriage to Perilaus. The reader knows that this will be a happy ending because they recall the oracle (1.6) which Tagliabue demonstrates has a proleptic function by letting the reader know how the story will end (2017: 53–77). Thus, while events have not immediately turned out as Anthia would have liked, the reader knows that this serves the narrative. Her plans have been successful enough because they allow for her reconciliation with

Habrocomes.

Resisting Pirates: Anthia’s Self-Fashioning to Protect Her Sophrosyne.

Anthia also self-fashions when Anchialus threatens to take her sophrosyne. Anchialus, one of Hippothous’ pirates, falls in love with her (4.5.1). Anthia, bound in a cave, rejects his advances. When he still continues to press, Anthia laments “whenever she could do so 56 undetected” (4.5.3εἴποτε λαθεῖν ἠδύνατο): “I wish I could be the wife of Habrocomes alone, even if it is necessary to die and to suffer things worse than what I have suffered” (4.5. 3

Ἁβροκόμου μόνου γυνὴ μείναι{μι}, κἄν ἀποθανεῖν δέῃ κἄν ὧν πέπονθα χείρω παθεῖν). Anthia continually reaffirms her commitment to Habrocomes. She does not care whether she dies, as long as she can be the wife of Habrocomes. This recommitment to her sophrosyne is useful when she has to take extreme measures to protect herself.

When Anchialus grows bolder and tries to rape Anthia, she does what is necessary to protect her sophrosyne.

ἡ δὲ ἐν ἀμηχάνῳ κακῷ γενομένῃ, σπασαμένη τὸ παρακείμενον ξίφος παίει τὸν Ἀγχίαλον, καὶ ἡ πληγὴ γίνεται καιρία· ὁ μὲν γὰρ περιληψόμενος καὶ φιλήσων ὅλος ἐνενεύκει πρὸς αὐτήν, ἠ δὲ ὑπενεγκοῦσα τὸ ξίφος κατὰ τῶν στέρνων ἔπληξε. (4.5.3–5)

But she was in a bad state without any means of escape; she drew the sword which lay beside her and struck Anchialus, and the wound was made in the right place. He had leaned down in order tο completely embrace and kiss her, but she brought a sword under him and smote him in his chest.

The narrator calls her state a ἀμήχανον κακόν. Anthia has no way of fighting back until she finds her sword. She has found a mechane and she does what is necessary to protect her sophrosyne.

While Xenophon does not call this an instance of andreia, Jones characterizes this as “implicit andreia” which “is not calculated, but is characterized as reactive and the product of desperation” (2012: 112). While this act is not premeditated, Anthia proves her commitment to do whatever is necessary to protect her sophrosyne. She goes to elaborate lengths to attempt to commit suicide which allows her to flee the marriage. The many lament speeches in which

Anthia reminds herself of her fidelity to Habrocomes provide her with a supply of strength that she can call on when she needs to act at a moment’s notice to defend her sophrosyne.

Hippothous’ Passion for Anthia: The Resolution

The last passage in which a pirate falls in love with the heroine is when Hippothous49 falls in love with Anthia. While Anthia is at the brothel in which she laments at 5.7.2 (the lament with which I opened this chapter), Hippothous recognizes her as the woman who killed

Anchialus. She states a fuller account of what happened, which the narrator reports in indirect discourse: “She asked that he have forgiveness and she recounted in detail that she had killed

Anchialus because he wasn’t sophron”(5.9.10 ἡ δὲ ᾐτεῖτο συγγνώμην ἔχειν καὶ αὐτῷ ἐπεξηγεῖτο

ὄτι Ἀγχίαλον ἀπέκτεινε μὴ σωφρονοῦτα). Here Anthia draws attention to Anchialus’ lack of sophrosyne. This can be read in two ways: either she is justifying her actions and arguing that her punishment in the pit was unfair. Or, more likely, Anthia is emphasizing what she did to the last person who did not respect her sophrosyne. Anthia marshalls the most compelling and forceful moment where she was able to preserve her fidelity to Habrocomes, albeit one which was not premeditated and certainly not the norm for her behavior. Since Hippothous is her master and bought her from a pimp, presumably he expects to have sex with her. Anthia is constructing a narrative where she is able to prevent this and protect her sophrosyne by violent means.

Hippothous’s desire for Anthia is the last scene in which someone who is not

Habrocomes is in love with her and is insisting on consummation:

κατῴκτειραν αὐτὴν ὁ Ἱππόθοος καὶ ἥτις ἦν ἐπέπυστο οὐδέπω, ἐκ δὲ τῆς καθημερινῆς σὺν τῇ κόρῃ διαίτης εἰς ἐπιθυμίαν Ἀνθίας καὶ Ἱππόθοος ἔρχεται καὶ συνελθεῖν ἐβούλετο καὶ πολλὰ ὑπισχνεῖται αὐτῇ. ἡ δὲ τὰ μὲν πρῶτα ἀντέλεγεν αὐτῷ, ἀναξία εἶναι λέγουσα εὐνῆς δεσποτικῆς τέλεον δὲ, ὠς ἐνέκειτο Ἱππόθοος, οὐκέτ’ ἔχουσα ὅ τι ποίησει, κάλλιον εἶναι νομίζουσα εἶπειν πάντα αὐτῷ τὰ ἀπόρρητα ἢ παραβῆναι τὰς πρὸς Ἁβροκόμην συνθήκας, λέγει τὸν Ἁβροκόμην, τὴν Ἔφεσον, τὸν ἔρωτα, τοὺς ὅρκους, τὰς συμφοράς, τὰ λῃστήρια καὶ συνεχὲς Ἁβροκόμην ἀνωδύρετο. ὁ δὲ Ἱππόθοος ἀκούσας ὅτι τε Ἀνθία εἴη καὶ ὅτι γυνὴ τοῦ πάντων αῦτῷ φιλτάτου, ἀσπάζεταί τε αὐτὴν καὶ εὐθυμεῖν παρέκαλει καὶ τὴν αὑτοῦ πρὸς Ἁβροκόμην φιλίαν διηγεῖται. καὶ τὴν μὲν εἶχεν ἐπὶ τῆς οἰκίας, πᾶσαν

49 Hippothous is one of the more interesting side characters in the Ephesiaca and the only one to have sparked a considerable amount of secondary scholarship in his own right. Alvares 1994 and Watanabe 2003 are useful starting places. 58

προσάγων ἐπιμέλειαν, Ἁβροκόμην αἰδούμενος, αὐτὸς δὲ πάντα ἀνηρεύσα, εἴ που τὸν Ἁβροκόμην ἀνεύροι. (5.9.11-13)

Hippothous had pity on her and had not yet found out who she was, but from daily contact he began to desire Anthia and wanted to have sex with her and he promised her many things. But she at first refused him, saying that she was unworthy of a master’s bed. Finally, as Hippothous insisted, not knowing what she should do, she thought that it was better to say all her secrets to him than to betray her agreement with Habrocomes. She talks about Habrocomes, Ephesus, the loves, the oaths, the misfortunes, the piracies, and she lamented Habrocomes continually. And Hippothous, having heard that she was Anthia and that she was the wife of the dearest person to him of all, embraced her and he told her to rejoice and related his friendship with Habrocomes. And he kept her at his house, furnishing everything necessary, and respecting Habrocomes, he investigated whether in any way he could find Habrocomes.

Just as in the cases of the goatherd (2.11), Eudoxus (3.5.9), and Amphinomous (4.6.5), Anthia’s story has elicited pity, her from Hippothous. In this case, the degree of Hippothous’ pity is strengthened by the κατα- prefix. In this dire circumstance, Anthia fashions a way to escape from

Hippothous’s desire by telling him the story of her misfortunes. As soon as Hippothous hears the name of Habrocomes, the threat to Anthia disappears. Yet she continues to tell her story nonetheless, in hopes that it will continue to elicit pity. Anthia does not know that he and

Habrocomes are friends until Hippothous tells her that they are. She is simply doing what she has done every time she has encountered the threat of sexual violence: she laments and does what is necessary to preserve her sophrosyne.

When Anthia and Habrocomes finally reunite, Anthia tells her story to Habrocomes during their reunion, emphasizing her ability to protect her sophrosyne:

ἀνερ … καὶ δέσποτα, ἀπείληφά σε πολλὴν γῆν πλανηθεῖσα καὶ θάλασσαν, λῃστῶν ἀπειλὰς ἐκφυγοῦσα καὶ πορνοβοσκῶν ὕβρεις καὶ δεσμὰ καὶ τάφρους καὶ ξύλα καὶ φάρμακα καὶ τάφους, ἀλλ’ ἥκω σοι τοιαύτη, τῆς ἐμῆς Ἁβροκόμη δέσποτα, οἵα τὸ πρῶτον ἀπηλλάγην εἰς Συρίαν ἐκ Τύρου, ἔπεισε δέ με ἁμαρτεῖν οὐδείς, οὐ Μοῖρις ἐν Συρίᾳ, οὐ Περίλαος ἐν Κιλικίᾳ, οὐκ ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ Ψάμμις καὶ Πολύιδος, οὐκ Ἀγχιαλος ἐν Αἰθιοπίᾳ, ούκ ἐν Τάραντι ὁ δεσπότης, ἀλλ’ ἁγνὴ μένω σοι πᾶσαν σωφροσύνης μηχανὴν πεποιημένη. (5.14.3)

Husband and master … I recover you after I wandered many lands and seas, after I fled many pirates’ threats and the violent acts of pimps and ditches and fetters and poisons and tombs. But I have come to you the same, Habrocomes the master of my soul, as when I first left from Tyre into Syria, and no one persuaded me to transgress, not Moeris in Syria, not Perilaus in Cilicia, not Psammis and Polyidus in Egypt, not Anchialus in Ethiopia, not my master [Hippothous] in Tarentum, but I remain chaste for you, because I performed every means of preserving sophrosyne.

This speech is an anti-lament. Anthia lists the trials which she has undergone to prove her fidelity to Habrocomes. She also uses the phrase “I have wandered many lands and seas” which

Hunter sees an allusion to the Odyssey (1996: 191). Tagliabue aptly calls Anthia’s journey a

“Penelopeid” (2011b). Anthia concludes that she has used every mechane to preserve her sophrosyne. These mechanai can be aptly compared to Penelope’s weaving of the shroud. One of the most important ways that Anthia has constructed her resolve is by reminding herself just how important Habrocomes is to her. Her lamentation is one of the means by which she is able to maintain her sophrosyne.

Lamentation is one important way in which Anthia constructs her identity in the

Ephesiaca. Through the various misfortunes and setbacks which threaten her commitment to

Habrocomes, Anthia proves repeatedly her sophrosyne. Some of her metods are underhanded.

She must lie, steal, and even kill at various points, acts which are at variance with her elite status.

But in the end, this makes her like the protagonists of epic. Anthia’s lamentation is one important way by which she constructs her elite identity even while in the midst of misfortunes.

Conclusion

This thesis aims to show that Anthia and Habrocomes in their lament scenes construct their ability to protect their sophrosyne. In tragedy, lamentation is usually a feminine activity, though there are some instances where men lament. In the genre of the Greek novel, Konstan’s

(1994) designation of the “sexual symmetry” between the hero and heroine makes lamentation a more acceptable activity for the hero. While Bakhtin’s (1981) famous discussion of “adventure time” leaves little room for the protagonists’ personal development, the work of Tagliabue

(2012, 2017) shows that Anthia and Habrocomes grow a great deal in the course of the novel.

This thesis considers how Anthia and Habrocomes construct the importance of sophrosyne in their lament scenes by taking inspiration from Greenblatt (1980), Whitmarsh (2011), and others who discuss how literary characters construct their sense of self. Although the protagonists are not immune to the vicissitudes of Tyche, Anthia and Habrocomes resolve to do whatever is necessary to maintain their sophrosyne.

Habrocomes’ laments show his changing perceptions of himself. In Habrocomes’ first lament he sees his lamentation and servitium amoris as a loss of masculinity. After getting married he vows to maintain his sophrosyne. When he is threatened by pirates, he equates his ability to maintain his sophrosyne with his masculinity, stating that if he were to sleep with

Corymbus, he would be “a whore instead of a man.” After Manto threatens him, Habrocomes interrogates the nature of slavery and freedom, stating that although his body is enslaved, he has a free soul. After he is separated from Anthia, he self-fashions his patient endurance of being separated from Anthia, repeatedly exhorting himself to “be strong.” Habrocomes thus repeatedly constructs his identity in the lament scenes, shifting his definitions of manliness and slavery in order to protect his sophrosyne. 61

Anthia’s laments also demonstrate her ability to protect her sophrosyne at all costs. In the first lament scene she fashions the means to see Habrocomes again even though social norms make this difficult. On her wedding night Anthia demonstrates that she has more andreia than

Habrocomes and takes the initiative on her wedding night. Then she vows to keep her sophrosyne even if that means dying. After pirates threaten her sophrosyne, she repeats this vow repeatedly in her lament scenes. Anthia’s attempt to commit suicide by taking poison exemplifies her resolve to escape Perilaus by whatever means necessary. In that scene, Anthia thinks that death is the only way out, but Eudoxus knows that there is an alternative. While her attempt to kill herself was unsuccessful, she successfully escapes Perilaus and ultimately is able to reunite with Habrocomes. When Anchialus attempts to rape Anthia, she finds a way out of a hopeless situation by killing him with the sword, using the supply of resolve that comes from lamentation.

Then, when Hippothous purchases Anthia, she reminds Hippothous of her use of force when

Anchialus tried to rape her and his friendship with Habrocomes. In her lament scenes, Anthia constructs her ability to stay faithful to Habrocomes.

While Xenophon’s novel is not a masterpiece of style, it partakes of Imperial Greek culture by articulating a concern with the self. The lament scenes are among the most rhetorically constructed passages of the whole novel and Doulamis has shown that they are not completely devoid of rhetoric (2002; 2007). Thus, they are not out of place in the milieu of the so-called

“Second Sophistic” which the work of Whitmarsh shows is concerned with the construction of identity (2001, 2005, 2011). Morgan’s suggestion that the concern with elite vs. non-elite constructions of character in Xenophon’s novel (2017) is given more credence by my analysis of the lament scenes. The lament scenes in Xenophon’s Ephesiaca articulate a concern with the self which is also found in other Greek literature during the Roman empire.

Abbreviations

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