The Erotics of Imperialism: 5th Century Literary Representations of Helen & Alcibiades

Sarah Elizabeth Gonzalez

Submitted in Partial Fulfillment

of the

Prerequisite for Honors

in The Classical Studies Department under the advisement of Kate Gilhuly

May 2020

© 2020 Sarah Elizabeth Gonzalez

Contents

Acknowledgements………………………………………………………………………………..3

Introduction………………………………………………………………………………………..5 Eros Unleashed

Translation Note………………………………………………………………………………….10

Chapter 1…………………………………………………………………………………………11 The Literary History of Helen

Chapter 2…………………………………………………………………………………………40 Imperialistic Intent and Genre Play in Euripides’ Helen

Chapter 3…………………………………………………………………………………………80 Political Eroticism in Book 6 of The History of the Peloponnesian War

Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………………...121 Eros Interrupted

Bibliography……………………………………………………………………………………135

2 Acknowledgements

This thesis was a labor of love -- and not the chaotic love I discuss in this thesis! While I was piloting this thesis ship, there were numerous crew mates behind the scenes helping me keep this project afloat. Without you, this ship would not have reached the harbor with as much ease or grace.

First, to my thesis committee: Kate Gilhuly, Carol Dougherty and William Cain.

To my thesis advisor and volunteer life coach, Kate Gilhuly: Thank you for taking on this project with me, and for having faith in the final product from the very beginning. Under your supervision, I have grown as both an academic and an adult. I cannot envision my time at Wellesley without your guidance and friendship.

To my second reader, Carol Dougherty: Thank you for your helpful insight and encouragement throughout the composition of this thesis. As a result of your mentorship over the years, I have learned to think boldly and challenge myself to proudly vocalize my thoughts. If I had not enrolled in your Beginning Greek course my first year, this thesis might have been very different.

To my visiting honors reader, William Cain: Thank you for agreeing to embark on yet another research project with me. Although you were on leave during the beginnings of this thesis process, you still checked in on my progress and offered encouragement from afar -- and for that I am grateful.

To the faculty and staff of the Department of Classical Studies: Thank you for taking me under your wing and helping me identify my passion for the Classics. I like to think I’ve incorporated pieces from each of your courses into this thesis. Also, thank you for allowing me access to the staff coffee supply, which made my morning shift in the office much easier after a long night at my thesis carrel.

To my Beta Readers, Olivia Fennell and Danielle Leibu:

To Olivia: Thank you for showing interest in this project from its preliminary stages. As one of my peer readers, you offered constant encouragement and intelligent insight that strengthened the final product. Although I wish we could have discussed Alcibiades at the Wellesley Starbucks, our Zoom calls and homemade coffee did the trick.

To Danielle: The Arya to my Sansa, my Baked Ziti, my “Sun and Stars,” I cannot find enough ways to express how grateful I was to have you beside me from Day 1 on this project. You were my cheerleader. You both challenged and motivated me to make this product the best it could be. Thank you for listening to my crazy theories (Quentin Tarantino is totally a modern day Euripides, right??), and sending me all of the Game of Thrones GIFs. We will celebrate soon at a fancy pub across the pond.

To the Jerome A. Schiff Fellowship Committee: Thank you for the generous funding of my thesis research during Winter Session 2020.

3 To CLCV 202: Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my preliminary thesis research with you. On a deeper note, thank you for helping me realize that I wanted to pursue teaching at the collegiate level. I think I always had a sense, but that November morning with your class made things crystal clear.

To the East Side BEASTSIDE Residential Staff: I love you all. Thank you for listening to my constant rambles about my thesis and thinking this project was cool. A special shout out to my Res- Wife and fellow thesis comrade, Paige Calvert, and my fearless community director, Stacie Allen.

To the members of Bates Res-Staff (Katharine Conklin, Ashley Bisram, Chloe Larkin, and Sarah Gladstone): Thank you for being the best team imaginable. Your support, especially during the final stages of this project, meant volumes to me.

To the residents of Bates Hall: Thank you for making my tenure as your House President a genuine pleasure. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful space of positivity and encouragement to compose the first half of my thesis. I would walk 500 miles for all of you.

To the Guild of Carillonneurs: Thank you for offering me an outlet to release the stress this thesis often incited, and for reigniting my love for musical performance. Many thanks to the students of Wellesley who did not tire of hearing the Game of Thrones theme every time I had a significant thesis breakthrough. A special shoutout to Margaret Angelini, who always reminded me to play, and write, boldly.

To the Wellesley friends who entered my life this year (Sophia DeCubellis, Katharine Gavitt, Sydney Meve, Cassie Potter, the 1st Floor Bates Crew, among many others!).

To Abby Webster: You have shown an enthusiasm for this project parallel to my own since I drafted my thesis proposal. Thank you for your friendship this past year. I cannot imagine writing this thesis without your infectious energy and support.

To Maggie Roberts: Thank you for having faith in me and this thesis even when I doubted it.

To Christine Arumainayagam, Sarah Gladstone and Louisa Oppenheim: You were my “Day Ones” at Wellesley. I value our friendship immensely -- it is one for life. Many thanks to Louisa for reminding us to “make it work” with all the gravitas of Tim Gunn.

To Spotify and your amazing student premium discount: Music often inspires and informs my writing. Consult the companion playlist for this thesis here to listen to the music that helped me better understand the chaos of Alcibiades and the voice of Helen.

And finally, to my parents, Ralph and Donna Gonzalez: You have filled my life with books, music, and joy. You laid the foundations for my academic success, and love of it, and I will be eternally grateful. Although I never expected to finish my thesis at home, you provided the hugs, laughter, and coffee that helped me cross the finish line.

This thesis is dedicated to my father, Ralph Gonzalez, who catalyzed my passion for the Classics. Perhaps, it was fate or pure coincidence that you were reading Thucydides during the months leading up to my birth. Either way, I couldn’t be prouder to list that edition of The History of the Peloponnesian War in my bibliography -- the one you have kept safe for 22 years.

4 Introduction: Eros Unleashed

Her face launched a thousand ships. His voice drove an armada across the sea. From the eroticized language used to describe these figures to their inherent tendency to break the standards set by literary genre, the similarities between Helen and Alcibiades are undeniable.

The intrinsic beauty of both Helen and Alcibiades provides the most compelling association between the two figures. However, this beauty extends well beyond their physical appearances. Akin to the sirens who drew men to their deaths, the voices of both figures have a seductive quality of their own. While Helen’s voice can capture the essence of every single

Greek soldier’s wife in Book 4 of the Odyssey, Alcibiades’ masterful art of persuasion urges the

Athenian polis towards an expansionist foreign policy. Beyond these qualities, both Alcibiades and Helen have ever-shifting political loyalties. Like chameleons, Helen and Alcibiades could adapt to whatever setting they found themselves in — whether it be within the Trojan court or deep within the council of Sparta.

The fact that many believe Helen is a mythological character while Alcibiades is a historical figure should not deter this association in the slightest. Much like the rich mythological background of Helen, Alcibiades arose within the Athenian polis as a quasi-mythological figure in his own right. Alcibiades luxuriated in his extravagant lifestyle. There were numerous public displays of his fortune, such as his chariot race victories and his sponsorship of theatrical productions (Thuc. 6.16.3). These displays led to the cultivation of a surreal reputation among his peers. Plutarch recounts many of the myths formulated around the politician in his Life of

Alcibiades. In addition to Alcibiades’ swagger, other stories show his conspicuous consumption.

Such stories include Alcibiades’ purchase of a dog worth 70 minas on account of its gorgeous tail

5 (Vit. Alc. 8.1) and his flamboyant adornments: flowing purple robes and a golden shield with the insignia of Eros (Vit. Alc. 16.2).

Parallels such as these were already on the minds of ancient writers. Plutarch draws the most conspicuous parallel between Helen and Alcibiades when the historian recounts Alcibiades’ momentous arrival in Sparta. In spite of his Athenian heritage, Alcibiades adopts the dress and mannerisms customary in Spartan society. On account of his seamless adaptation and his ever striking appearance and eloquence, the Spartans grant him the epithet: ‘ἔστιν ἡ πάλαι

γυνή’ (“The same woman still,” Vit. Alc. 23.6). Plutarch derives this phrase from Euripides’

Orestes, in which Electra elicits the same response to Helen after she has cut her hair (Or. 129).

While not as obvious as Plutarch’s parallel, other authors made more subtle comparisons between Helen and Alcibiades. In Aristophanes’ The Frogs, the play’s characters attempt to resolve the problem Alcibiades poses to Athens. Aristophanes’ character of Aeschylus urges

Dionysus to not nourish a lion within the city walls, or if he does, to obey its every command

(Ran. 1431-3). By comparing Alcibiades to a lion, Aristophanes draws a direct parallel between

The Frogs and Aeschylus’ description of Helen in The Agamemnon. Aeschylus likens Helen to a lion cub who was once endearing to the Trojan royal family. However, the lion’s violent instincts win out as it turns against the very family that nourished it (Ag. 716-36). Through this association, Aristophanes touches upon the Athenians’ fear of Alcibiades. While they can admire his beauty and royal majesty, there is a deeper anxiety concerning the violence and destruction that his ambition and charisma could unleash upon the city. More specifically, as Thucydides puts it, Athens feared Alcibiades desired the power of a tyrant (Thuc. 6.15.4).

6 This association has prompted me to consider the similarities between Helen and

Alcibiades: both why ancient authors made these parallels and how these comparisons can inform our knowledge of the shifting political scene in Athens at the end of the 5th century BCE.

In this thesis, I examine two particular parallels between Helen and Alcibiades. First, I determine how literary invocations of Helen and Alcibiades embody the imperialist desire of 5th-century

Athens. Further, I investigate how their inability to be categorized by a specific literary genre is indicative of a greater cultural shift in the Athenian polis.

Thus, the conclusions of this thesis are two-fold. Through a literary analysis of Euripides’

Helen, Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War, and Plato’s Symposium, I demonstrate how Alcibiades as a public figure pushed the Athenian imagination into new forms of literary expression. The first element of this claim explores how Helen and Alcibiades embody the polyvalent quality of eros. While both figures undoubtedly incite personal desire, Helen and

Alcibiades simultaneously evoke a political eros that is emblematic of the imperialistic desire that devastated Athens in the 5th century.

In addition, I suggest ancient authors were forced to transgress literary genres in order to not only address the complicated issues Helen and Alcibiades raised, but also to best encapsulate the chaotic and contradictory personalities of both figures. Within the Greek literary world, every genre correlated with a certain occasion or performance, as seen in the marked difference between public and private performance.1 As these new genres emerged, they not only reflected a change in literature, but a change within the civic community and that community’s particular needs.2 I apply this cultural poetics approach to my thesis as I argue the generic instability of

1 Kurke 2000, 64. 2 Ibid, 61.

7 Alcibiades and Helen reflects a larger shift in the Athenian political scene from the moderate

Periclean policies of the mid-5th century to the imperialist ideology of Alcibiades and his followers.

I begin this thesis with an exploration of Helen’s literary background in Chapter 1. Helen has one of the richest mythological backgrounds in the classical canon. In the Helen, Euripides both draws upon and contradicts nearly all of these previous iterations. Through an analysis of

Helen’s past literary invocations, I provide evidence for how she ignites not only sexual desire, but also imperialistic desire within her admirers. However, I do not cover all of Helen’s appearances in the Greek literary canon. Rather, I focus upon Helen’s appearances in Homer’s

Odyssey and Herodotus’ Histories, as these works lay the foundational material for Helen’s relationship to Egypt -- an association that is integral to Euripides’ Helen. In addition to the

Odyssey and the Histories, I touch upon Sappho 16, in which Sappho conjures an innovative spin on Helen’s character by flipping her traditional role as an object of desire to a subject of desire, which presages Euripides’ later characterization of Helen.

In Chapter 2, I conduct a close reading of Euripides’ Helen. Since its first recorded performance in 412 BCE, Helen has confounded its audiences. Although often classified as a tragedy, Euripides places generic comedic tropes in direct conflict with Athenian political commentary and anxieties. Further, Euripides’ characterization of Helen is a bold innovation as she transforms from a character solely classified by her beauty into a political player who acts upon her own desires. My analysis focuses upon Helen’s unique characterization, the purpose of the play’s Egyptian setting, and the meaning behind the play’s three interwoven genres: tragedy, comedy, and choral performance.

8 In Chapter 3, I transition from the spheres of myth and tragedy to explore the representation of Alcibiades in Book 6 of the History of the Peloponnesian War. In the same way that Helen resists traditional tragic conventions, Book 6 pushes the boundaries of literary classification. Thucydides’ History is first and foremost a historical text largely defined by its dedication to realism and unbiased storytelling. However, when Alcibiades enters the political fray during deliberations concerning the Sicilian Expedition, Thucydides’ language becomes intriguingly erotic. In this chapter, I show how poetic language occurs with increasing frequency as Alcibiades’ grand plans of conquest captivate the Athenian polis. This section concludes with an evaluation of Thucydides’ account of a pederastic relationship between the tyrant slayers,

Harmodius and Aristogeiton. On the surface, this digression lacks any coherent connections to the main narrative. To the contrary, I suggest this tyrannical narrative underscores Athens’ fear of

Alcibiades’ political aspirations. The destructive results of Harmodius and Aristogeiton’s personal desires reflect the failure of the Athenian armada and the consequential collapse of

Athenian democracy.

This thesis concludes with a brief analysis of Plato’s Symposium. Similar themes of uncontrollable desire and genre bending emerge with the sudden and overt appearance of

Alcibiades at the symposium. The instability of Alcibiades haunts the dialogue as his restructuring of traditional pederastic roles and his embodiment of the tragic and comic genres insinuates the greater disruption Alcibiades wreaks upon Athens.

Ultimately, this thesis suggests that the ways Helen and Alcibiades defied social classification demanded a reordering of the Athenian literary imagination in order to best express the complicated topics these figures brought to the surface.

9 Translation Note

Throughout this thesis, I consult primary works from the ancient Greek canon that prominently feature Helen and Alcibiades. Since the crux of my thesis rests upon the generic shift these figures incite, much of this thesis will include close readings of passages in which

Helen and Alcibiades conform to and rupture generic conventions.

As a result of the deep philological study such a project necessitates, I often reference the original Greek of these literary works. In order to aid readers, I have included English translations for all of the block quotations and any words that I analyze within each chapter.

Unless otherwise noted, all of the translations in this thesis are my own.

Throughout this thesis, I also consider the multifaceted definition of eros, as Helen and

Alcibiades tend to embody most, if not all, of its meanings. At its core, eros means love or desire.

However, as I address in this thesis, this desire can manifest as a sexual eros, a political eros, an imperialist eros, etc. Another element of eros involves its “destructive reversals of fortune” and its tendency to subvert traditional power structures.3 In order to avoid confusion, when the definition extends beyond desire, I clarify the specific type of eros in my analysis.

3 Calame 1999, 5

10 Chapter 1: The Literary History of Helen

Throughout her various literary representations, contradictions and dualities have plagued

Helen’s characterization and her relationship to Greece. As the alleged most beautiful woman in the world, Helen is both a prize to be kept safe and an uncontrollable force threatening to wreak havoc wherever she travels. To the Greeks, she represents everything there is to fear about female sexuality: she is beautiful, she is crafty, and she is tempestuous. Much like Pandora,

Helen manifests in the Athenian imagination as a kalon kakon, or a beautiful evil.4 While the

Greeks might be willing to cross an ocean to retrieve her, she still becomes the source of blame for the conflict in Troy and its bloody aftermath.

The etymology of Helen’s name illuminates these conflicting elements of her character.

The root of her name stems from the verb αἱρέω, meaning to capture or to seize. Helen encapsulates αἱρέω in two different lights. On the one hand, numerous men abduct Helen throughout her literary history, ranging from Theseus to Paris. In spite of these abductions, she simultaneously holds the identity of the capturer as she lures ambitious men into battle with the promise of her unmatched beauty. Aeschylus considers the catastrophic consequences of Helen’s alluring nature in the Agamemnon: ἐπεὶ πρεπόντως ἑλένας, ἕλανδρος, ἑλέπτολις (“Since fittingly she is ship-destroying, man-destroying, and city-destroying,” Ag. 683). Euripides combines both the literal etymology and this exaggerated Aeschylean meaning in the Trojan Women as Hecuba warns Menelaus about the destructiveness of Helen’s seduction: αἱρεῖ γὰρ ἀνδρῶν ὄµµατ᾽,

ἐξαιρεῖ πόλεις, πίµπρησιν οἴκους (“For she captures the eyes of men, she destroys cities, she burns houses,” Tr. 892).5 At the heart of this opposition lies one of the greater risks behind

4 Blondell 2013, 10. 5 Skutsch 1987, 192.

11 Helen’s eros. Men desire to seize Helen, as she is emblematic of “absolute power, of satisfied desire.”6 However, there is a greater concern as to whether her capturers can ever truly contain her chaotic eros. If eros is truly, as Sappho puts it, γλυκύπικρον (“bittersweet,” LP, fr. 130), as both the capturer and the captured, Helen embodies the beauty and the pain of the erotic experience.

Euripides steers away from these previous tropes by posing the following question in the

Helen: what if the rumors about Helen were false? What if she never eloped to Troy, but actually was in Egypt the entire time? This revisionist version of Helen’s involvement in the Trojan War forms the crux of Euripides’ Helen. In contrast to previous iterations of her character, Euripides casts his version of Helen in a significantly more positive light as Helen grounds herself in her

Spartan roots and maintains her marriage vows to Menelaus. Euripides projects Helen’s characteristic seductiveness upon the ethereal eidolon (“image/double”), the phantom image of

Helen that the gods send to Troy in the real Helen’s place. While part of the play’s appeal derives from this innovative presentation, Euripides simultaneously invokes previous iterations of her character. Ultimately, Euripides creates an echo effect of past literary invocations, establishing a conversation between the past and present fragments of Helen’s character.

In light of this, it is imperative to explore Helen’s rich literary history before delving into an analysis of Euripides’ Helen. This chapter is dedicated to examining the literary works that had the most profound impact on Euripides’ portrayal of Helen. As a result, an analysis of

Homer’s Odyssey and Herodotus’ Histories forms the bulk of this chapter, as these sources laid the predicate to document Helen’s travels to Egypt. Although both authors touch upon similar

6 Arrowsmith 1973, 134.

12 themes, these works still conjure two different characterizations of Helen: a crafty, supposedly re-domesticated Helen in the Odyssey and a passive object in the Histories. This chapter concludes with an analysis of Sappho 16, in which Sappho conjures Helen as a subject of desire instead of solely an object of desire. This interpretation paves the way for Euripides’ innovative twist on her character in the Helen.

Helen as a Poet in the Odyssey

In Book 4 of the Odyssey, Telemachus embarks on a journey to Sparta as he searches for news about Odysseus’ whereabouts. By this time, Helen and Menelaus have returned to Helen’s ancestral seat in Sparta and have reinstated themselves within the Spartan household.7 Menelaus picks up the mantle as the patriarch of the house, while Helen fulfills the role of a dutiful wife.

However, Helen and Menelaus’ relationship is far from a passionate marriage as Homer creates a sense of unease between the couple that extends to the Spartan setting. A fragile peace has claimed Sparta in the aftermath of the Trojan War; a peace that is just as tenuous as Helen’s return to her former roles as a mother and a wife.

From the moment Telemachus arrives in Sparta, Homer suggests the young hero has entered a world of dualities.8 There are two weddings in progress: one between Hermione and

Neoptolemus and the other between Megapenthes and an unnamed daughter of Alector. These two ceremonies conjure up the divide between φιλία (“friendship”) and ξενία (“guest- friendship”).9 While the two families enter into a shared partnership, the bride holds the identity

7 Although Book 4 takes place in Sparta, Egypt still has a prominent place within the narrative in the form of Helen’s Egyptian drugs and the gifts from the Egyptian royal family. 8 Bergren 2008, 112. 9 Ibid, 113.

13 of a ξενος (“stranger”) as she leaves her household to enter another.10 This contrast also extends to Telemachus’ identity in Sparta. Telemachus is both a friend and a stranger to the Spartan royal family. Additionally, two emotions manifest at the infamous celebratory dinner: elation at the two marriages and undeniable mournfulness over memories of war. These dualities are not coincidental, but rather form a key aspect of Helen’s character.11 There is an ambiguity to

Helen’s identity that can only break down into halves: she is both mortal and divine, she is

Spartan and Trojan, she is beautiful and catastrophic.

Although hints of Helen’s presence haunt the opening of Book 4, the subject of

Menelaus’ reign and the imagery of the Spartan palace consume the first hundred lines. In the eyes of Telemachus, Menelaus is not any ordinary man, but a quasi-divine figure, as shown in

Telemachus’ description of the palace: δῶµα διοτρεφέος βασιλῆος (“a king’s house fostered by

Zeus,” Od. 4.49). From the moment Telemachus enters the palace, this grand illusion begins to fade. At the wedding banquet, sorrow grips the Spartan household as memories of the war move both Menelaus and Telemachus to tears. As if on cue, Helen emerges in a striking sequence

(4.120-35):

ἧος ὁ ταῦθ᾽ ὥρµαινε κατὰ φρένα καὶ κατὰ θυµόν, ἐκ δ᾽ Ἑλένη θαλάµοιο θυώδεος ὑψορόφοιο ἤλυθεν Ἀρτέµιδι χρυσηλακάτῳ ἐικυῖα. τῇ δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἅµ᾽ Ἀδρήστη κλισίην εὔτυκτον ἔθηκεν, Ἀλκίππη δὲ τάπητα φέρεν µαλακοῦ ἐρίοιο, Φυλὼ δ᾽ ἀργύρεον τάλαρον φέρε, τόν οἱ ἔθηκεν Ἀλκάνδρη, Πολύβοιο δάµαρ, ὃς ἔναι᾽ ἐνὶ Θήβῃς Αἰγυπτίῃς, ὅθι πλεῖστα δόµοις ἐν κτήµατα κεῖται: ὃς Μενελάῳ δῶκε δύ᾽ ἀργυρέας ἀσαµίνθους,

10 Blondell 2013, 73: Blondell notes that Helen breaks away from this marital custom by remaining in her household, whereas Menelaus is the one to move to Sparta. Helen again evades societal norms, and further complicates Menelaus’ attempts to assert control over her. 11 Bergren 2008, 23.

14 δοιοὺς δὲ τρίποδας, δέκα δὲ χρυσοῖο τάλαντα. χωρὶς δ᾽ αὖθ᾽ Ἑλένῃ ἄλοχος πόρε κάλλιµα δῶρα: χρυσέην τ᾽ ἠλακάτην τάλαρόν θ᾽ ὑπόκυκλον ὄπασσεν ἀργύρεον, χρυσῷ δ᾽ ἐπὶ χείλεα κεκράαντο. τόν ῥά οἱ ἀµφίπολος Φυλὼ παρέθηκε φέρουσα νήµατος ἀσκητοῖο βεβυσµένον: αὐτὰρ ἐπ᾽ αὐτῷ ἠλακάτη τετάνυστο ἰοδνεφὲς εἶρος ἔχουσα.

Telemachus was turning over these things in his heart and his soul until Helen came from her fragrant, high-roofed room like Artemis with her distaff of gold. Adraste placed a well-made seat beside her, while Alcippe brought forth a rug of soft wool, and Phylo brought a silver basket, Alcandre gave it to her, the wife of Polybus, who dwelt in Thebes of Egypt, where the greatest possessions lie in houses; he gave two silver bath tubs to Menelaus, and two tripods, and ten golden scales; But separately his wife again gave beautiful gifts to Helen; she sent both a golden distaff and a silver basket on wheels, and the rims had been gilded with gold. Bringing these things forth, the handmaiden, Phylo, placed the basket stuffed full of spun yarn beside her; additionally, the distaff had been placed upon it carrying dark wool.

Through this extensive catalogue of resplendent treasures, Homer solidifies the importance of materialism to Menelaus’ identity. While Menelaus appears ill-equipped for warfare in the Iliad, the accumulation of wealth is the one sphere in which he succeeds.12

Homer places Helen in the middle of these resplendent treasures, suggesting Menelaus views his wife as one of his many prized possessions, perhaps even the ultimate possession. It is worth noting, however, that Menelaus collected all of these items, including Helen, on his expedition to and from Troy. Thus, these items are more than just symbols of Menelaus’ wealth.

The numerous tripods, baskets, and Helen herself are emblematic of the spoils of war. Helen’s

12 Blondell 2013, 74.

15 placement among these spoils confirms the seizure of Helen is dependent on military conquest.

However, in spite of their inherent beauty, these objects do not bring joy to the Spartan royal family. The sorrow of war still pervades the palace. Thus, the unhappiness of Menelaus and his guests interrogates the worth of the fortune and prosperity that supposedly comes with conquest.

This passage is also significant in that Homer provides the epic’s first description of

Helen in the flesh. At first glance, this preliminary presentation of Helen suggests she has successfully reinstated herself into Spartan society as a virtuous Greek wife and house-hold manager. As Helen places herself beside the silver baskets overflowing with yarn, Homer evokes his characterization of Penelope, who functions as Helen’s literary foil throughout the Odyssey.13

By drawing parallels between the two women, Homer strengthens the credence behind Helen’s re-adoption of her traditional domestic role.

However, Homer does not fully revoke the qualities that make Helen remarkable. For example, the opening image of Helen stepping down from her sweet-smelling chamber is reminiscent of a god descending from the heavens. In the following line, Homer develops

Helen’s quasi-divine status by likening her Artemis. This comparison is innovative, especially since Helen is traditionally associated with the sensual beauty of Aphrodite.14 Helen’s association with Artemis strengthens the idea that she has tamed her sexual desires, and she has become a woman defined by Artemis’ values of chastity and purity. While these signs seem to indicate

Helen’s re-domestication, Homer leaves it open-ended as to whether this virtuous portrayal of

Helen is just as illusory as the facade of the Spartan palace.

13 Ibid, 76: Blondell notes that Helen breaks convention by receiving these gifts on her own accord in a woman to woman exchange of items with Alcandre. This distinction hints at the increased autonomy of women in Egypt, which Herodotus confirms in Book 2 of the Histories. 14 Stanford 1959, 272.

16 In order to liven up the festivities, Helen pours her infamous “good drugs” into a jar of wine.15 Helen’s drugs have the power to erase pain and anger, thus offering a remedy to the traumatic memories of the Trojan War. Helen received these drugs as gifts from the Egyptian royal family, and they prove to be just as fantastical as the Ancient Greek perception of Egypt

(4.219-30):

ἔνθ᾽ αὖτ᾽ ἄλλ᾽ ἐνόησ᾽ Ἑλένη Διὸς ἐκγεγαυῖα: αὐτίκ᾽ ἄρ᾽ εἰς οἶνον βάλε φάρµακον, ἔνθεν ἔπινον, νηπενθές τ᾽ ἄχολόν τε, κακῶν ἐπίληθον ἁπάντων. ὃς τὸ καταβρόξειεν, ἐπὴν κρητῆρι µιγείη, οὔ κεν ἐφηµέριός γε βάλοι κατὰ δάκρυ παρειῶν, οὐδ᾽ εἴ οἱ κατατεθναίη µήτηρ τε πατήρ τε, οὐδ᾽ εἴ οἱ προπάροιθεν ἀδελφεὸν ἢ φίλον υἱὸν χαλκῷ δηιόῳεν, ὁ δ᾽ ὀφθαλµοῖσιν ὁρῷτο. τοῖα Διὸς θυγάτηρ ἔχε φάρµακα µητιόεντα, ἐσθλά, τά οἱ Πολύδαµνα πόρεν, Θῶνος παράκοιτις Αἰγυπτίη, τῇ πλεῖστα φέρει ζείδωρος ἄρουρα φάρµακα, πολλὰ µὲν ἐσθλὰ µεµιγµένα πολλὰ δὲ λυγρά…

But then Helen the daughter of Zeus thought of something else; At once she cast a drug into the wine, then they were drinking, it both banished sorrow and lacked strife, causing them to forget all of their troubles. Whoever should drink this, when it is mixed in a drinking vessel, would not during the day cast a tear down from his cheek, not even if his mother and father should be wasting away, not even if men should slay his brother or his dear son before him with a sword, not even if he should see it with his own eyes. Such were the crafty drugs held by the daughter of Zeus, good drugs, Polydamna offered them to her, the Egyptian wife of Thon, where the grain-bearing fields bear the greatest supply of drugs, many that are good when mixed many that are baneful…

15 Bergren 2008, 116.

17 The most significant aspect of these Egyptian drugs lies in their dualities, which builds upon the aforementioned polarities of Sparta.16 The drugs are both good and baneful. While the drugs offer relief from memories of war, they also eliminate human emotion. Homer’s repetition of phrasing mimics these dualities, such as the repeated phrase οὐδ᾽ εἴ οἱ (“not even if,” 4.224-5) and the increased appearance of µὲν… δὲ (“either…or," 4.226-30) clauses. The good and bad effects of the drugs can also be extended to the contradictions of Helen’s own character. The peaceful effect of the drugs is tempting, similar to Helen’s alluring appearance. Yet, on closer inspection, the associative emotional loss is as costly as the destruction that accompanies

Helen.17 Helen utilizes the drugs’ effects to her advantage as she subverts the patriarchal structure established by Menelaus, an action which draws Helen further away from the purity of

Penelope and closer to the sorcery of Circe and Calypso.18 Now that Menelaus has been subdued by the drugs, Helen seizes the opportunity to exchange her own stories and restore her tarnished reputation. In one short scene, Helen transitions from a domestic wife in the periphery to a captivating poet.19

Just as there are two weddings and drugs with dual qualities, the two hosts, Menelaus and

Helen, tell two stories about their roles in the sacking of Troy. Helen presents her story first, and provides a different take on her experience during the Trojan War. This presentation stands in stark contrast to Homer’s characterization of Helen in the Iliad. By embedding herself in the

16 Ibid. 17 Suzuki 1989, 66. 18 See Od. 10.213 for a reference to Circe’s “wicked drugs.” Although these drugs lack the dual quality of Helen’s Egyptian drugs, both having the ability to weaken men. 19 Bergren 2008, 116.

18 Trojan court, Helen argues she did not betray the Greeks. In fact, she played a pivotal role in the collapse of the city (4.250-6):

ἐγὼ δέ µιν οἴη ἀνέγνων τοῖον ἐόντα, καί µιν ἀνηρώτων: ὁ δὲ κερδοσύνῃ ἀλέεινεν. ἀλλ᾽ ὅτε δή µιν ἐγὼ λόεον καὶ χρῖον ἐλαίῳ, ἀµφὶ δὲ εἵµατα ἕσσα καὶ ὤµοσα καρτερὸν ὅρκον µὴ µὲν πρὶν Ὀδυσῆα µετὰ Τρώεσσ᾽ ἀναφῆναι, πρίν γε τὸν ἐς νῆάς τε θοὰς κλισίας τ᾽ ἀφικέσθαι, καὶ τότε δή µοι πάντα νόον κατέλεξεν Ἀχαιῶν.

I alone recognized him, and I questioned him; but he shunned me in his craftiness. But when I was bathing him and I was rubbing his body with olive oil, I bid him to sit down with a garment around him and I swore a strong oath to not reveal him as Odysseus to the Trojans, before he reached the swift ships and the huts, and then in fact he told me everything about the Achaeans’ plan.

The driving purpose of Helen’s story is to present herself in an admirable light to her Spartan audience, and by extension, the reader of the epic. Through a string of first-person verbs and pronouns, Helen places herself at the center of the action. In doing so, Helen emphasizes the steps she undertook to secure the Greek’s eventual victory. Through her immediate identification of Odysseus, Helen displays a level of intelligence and foresight nearly matching that of the infamous man of many wiles. By recognizing Odysseus dressed in the garb of a beggar, Helen foreshadows Penelope’s later recognition of him in Books 19 and 23. However, while Penelope utilizes her wiles to reinstate her marriage with Odysseus, Helen uses her craftiness in this instance to assert power over Odysseus.

Helen also flips the gender hierarchy through her seduction of Odysseus. Helen describes in detail how she bathed and clothed Odysseus, while in the presence of his son and her

19 husband.20 Through the use of imperfect verbs, such as λόεον (“I was bathing,” 4.252) and χρῖον

(“I was rubbing,” 4.252), Homer suggests these were repetitive actions and were not contained to a singular instance.21 This scene is also one of many in which Odysseus is left vulnerable to the sexual advances of a woman, thus exhibiting yet another case of Helen’s intentional shifting of traditional power dynamics.22 As a result of this sensual interlude, Homer casts a shade of doubt over the truthfulness of Helen’s reformed identity in Sparta.

At the conclusion of her speech, Helen confirms her true loyalties lie with the Greeks as she expresses her joy at the sack of Troy (4.257-64):

πολλοὺς δὲ Τρώων κτείνας ταναήκεϊ χαλκῷ ἦλθε µετ᾽ Ἀργείους, κατὰ δὲ φρόνιν ἤγαγε πολλήν. ἔνθ᾽ ἄλλαι Τρῳαὶ λίγ᾽ ἐκώκυον: αὐτὰρ ἐµὸν κῆρ χαῖρ᾽, ἐπεὶ ἤδη µοι κραδίη τέτραπτο νέεσθαι ἂψ οἶκόνδ᾽, ἄτην δὲ µετέστενον, ἣν Ἀφροδίτη δῶχ᾽, ὅτε µ᾽ ἤγαγε κεῖσε φίλης ἀπὸ πατρίδος αἴης, παῖδά τ᾽ ἐµὴν νοσφισσαµένην θάλαµόν τε πόσιν τε οὔ τευ δευόµενον, οὔτ᾽ ἂρ φρένας οὔτε τι εἶδος.

And having killed many of the Trojans with his longsword he returned to the Argives, and he brought back much wisdom. Then the other Trojan women were shrieking loudly; nevertheless my heart was rejoicing, since already my heart was turned to sail back home, and I was lamenting for the god-sent blindness, which Aphrodite gave to me, when she led me here from my dear, paternal land, having turned me away from my child and my bridal chamber and my husband who is lacking in nothing, neither in wisdom nor appearance.

20 Ibid, 121: Bergren also takes issue with Helen’s extensive description of her bathing Odysseus. She questions whether or not Helen is intentionally trying to seduce Telemachus, which would be insulting on both counts towards Menelaus. 21 Stanford 1959, 276. 22 See Calypso’s enchanting effect on Odysseus (Od.1.55-7) and Circe’s seduction of Odysseus (Od. 4.320-50) for such examples.

20 Helen’s elation at the shrieks of the Trojan women solidifies Helen’s loyalty to the Greeks. And yet, this behavior stands in sharp contrast to Helen’s respectful treatment of the Trojan royal family in the Iliad.23 Helen’s behavior showcases a complete disregard for the proper standards of guest-friendship, and presages Aeschylus’ characterization of Helen in the Agamemnon.24 The

Trojans cared for Helen, but Helen still turned against them. Given her joy, Homer offers little indication that Helen feels any remorse for the Trojans at all. This moment acutely emphasizes the fickleness of Helen’s loyalties and the ease with which they switch.

Not only does Helen express her loyalty to the Greeks, but she also absolves herself of all blame in the matter by asserting that it was ἄτη (“god-sent blindness,” 4.260) that drove her to

Troy. By shifting the blame to the gods, Helen asserts the importance of her role as both a mother and a wife. If it were not for the intervention of the gods, Helen insinuates she would have remained in Sparta. By displacing the culpability for the Trojan War onto the gods, Helen likewise disassociates herself from the consequences of the war.

However, the truthfulness of Helen’s claims must be called into question, especially since she tells this story under the influence of the “good drugs.”25 The conflicting elements of Helen’s story also complicate the actual function of the drugs. Though the magic of the drugs should prevent all harmful memories from the mind, there are many elements of Helen’s story that would stir some form of pain for the listener. For example, Helen’s encounter with Odysseus would undoubtedly have been difficult for both Menelaus and Telemachus to hear. As

23 See Il.3.194-290 for an example of Helen’s respectfulness towards the Trojan royal family as she stands upon the walls of Troy with Priam. In spite of Helen’s Spartan roots, Priam refers to her as “dear child” and Helen likewise calls the Trojan king “father.” 24 See Ag. 716-34 for the comparison of Helen to a lion that eventually turns on its caretakers. 25 Clader 1976, 35.

21 Telemachus attempts to piece together information about his father, Helen’s story of Odysseus’ submission to her could negatively influence his perception of Odysseus.26 For Menelaus, by forcing him to recall her infidelity, Helen creates a greater strain upon their marriage. In tandem with these somber thoughts, violence still penetrates Helen’s story, specifically with respect to the sacking of Troy. Ultimately, Helen’s story has only further complicated her identity and intentions, rather than redeemed her reputation.

Following the completion of Helen’s story, Menelaus offers his version of the fall of

Troy. The flimsiness of Helen’s story inevitably collapses under the pointed rebuttal of Menelaus as he casts Helen in a more malicious light (4.271-9):

οἷον καὶ τόδ᾽ ἔρεξε καὶ ἔτλη καρτερὸς ἀνὴρ ἵππῳ ἔνι ξεστῷ, ἵν᾽ ἐνήµεθα πάντες ἄριστοι Ἀργείων Τρώεσσι φόνον καὶ κῆρα φέροντες. ἦλθες ἔπειτα σὺ κεῖσε: κελευσέµεναι δέ σ᾽ ἔµελλε δαίµων, ὃς Τρώεσσιν ἐβούλετο κῦδος ὀρέξαι: καί τοι Δηΐφοβος θεοείκελος ἕσπετ᾽ ἰούσῃ. τρὶς δὲ περίστειξας κοῖλον λόχον ἀµφαφόωσα, ἐκ δ᾽ ὀνοµακλήδην Δαναῶν ὀνόµαζες ἀρίστους, πάντων Ἀργείων φωνὴν ἴσκουσ᾽ ἀλόχοισιν.

What a feat this strong man accomplished and endured in the carven horse, where all of the best of the Argives were sitting bringing death and fate to the Trojans. Then you came there; but a god must have urged you on, who was willing to extend glory to the Trojans; and godlike Deiphobus followed you as you were going. But you went around the hallow ambush three times, touching it, and you called the best of the Danaans by name, likening your voice to the wives of all the Argive men.

Menelaus is intent on exposing the destructive elements of Helen’s character, specifically, her voice. Throughout the Odyssey, the seductive voices of women have surfaced as dangers to

26 Bergren 2008, 121.

22 Odysseus and his Greek companions, such as Circe and the Sirens.27 By developing the disarming quality of Helen’s voice, Menelaus equates Helen with these foreign and supernatural women. Much like Circe, Helen emerges as the δεινὴ θεὸς αὐδήεσσα (“the dread goddess of speech,” Od. 10.136), a comparison which further taints Helen’s appearance as the virtuous housewife.

In Menelaus' story, Helen manifests as a universal object of desire, as her voice collectively embodies the voices of the Argive wives left behind at home. Helen’s voice proves to be an impediment to the Greek invasion. The beauty of her words impairs the intellectual and emotional reasoning of the Greek troops. This impairment parallels the effect of Helen’s drugs on her Spartan guests, which reinforces the manipulative potential of the drugs.28 Menelaus draws out Helen’s emasculating effect upon men in his description of Deiphobus, Helen’s second

Trojan husband. The image of Helen and Deiphobus showcases another relationship in which

Helen has flipped traditional power dynamics. Helen emerges as the dominant partner in this relationship, while Deiphobus follows her lead around the Trojan Horse. Through the emasculation of the Greek soldiers and Deiphobus, Menelaus realigns Helen with the goddess

Aphrodite, as both women project a powerful, castrating eros upon their lovers.

While Odysseus fell prey to Helen’s sexual advances in her story, Menelaus presents

Odysseus as the one hero who has the will-power to resist Helen’s alluring voice. In this way,

Menelaus redeems Odysseus’ heroic identity, but at the cost of the ingenuity Helen displayed in her story. Through the integration of Odysseus’ resistance, Menelaus attempts to reestablish the patriarchal structure that Helen has scrambled. While Menelaus recognizes Helen’s tendency to

27 See Od. 12.184-93 for the Siren’s disarming song. 28 Blondell 2013, 84.

23 subvert power dynamics, he fails to resolve the trouble of Helen’s eros. Menelaus cannot control

Helen’s beauty, so he asserts power over the one aspect of her identity he can curtail: her voice.

Through the sheer benefit of presenting his story second, Menelaus ultimately gets the final word on Helen’s involvement in the sack of Troy. Although Menelaus’ story has flaws of its own, his account is enough to question Helen’s credibility, and simultaneously silence her. It seems

Menelaus’ efforts to silence Helen prove successful. Following the feast, Helen is absent from the Odyssey until Book 15.

The conclusion of Menelaus’ rebuttal permanently shatters the illusion Telemachus first encountered at the beginning of Book 4. The unhappiness that pervades the Spartan household underscores the pitfalls of military conquest, thus questioning the war culture of the Iliad.

Through this competition between Helen and Menelaus, Homer exposes the distrust that haunts the married couple. In the Odyssey, Helen and Menelaus are not at peace. In fact, their marriage plays out as a constant struggle for power and speech. The imbalance of their marriage reveals

Helen still has the potential to destabilize traditional relationships and structures, in spite of her reformed appearance. Helen manages to accomplish this feat on account of her own craftiness and her pivotal role as a storyteller. Given the importance of speech to her identity, moving forward it is integral to track when Helen is vocal, when she is silenced, and perhaps even more importantly, when she is heard.

Helen as a Commodity in the Histories

In this section, I move from the epic poetry of Homer to the historical prose of

Herodotus’ Histories. Prose writing existed well before Herodotus composed the Histories.

While poets had the task of recording the past, prose writers dedicated themselves to the

24 documentation of present events and scientific analyses.29 However, the Histories emerged as a compelling work that covered the stirring events of the past in a prose style that echoed the epic scope of Homer.30 Herodotus’ rhetoric intertwines critical analysis with allusions to “the scene of poetic performance,” a stylistic choice that later historians avoided.31 In this section, I evaluate

Herodotus’ invocation of Helen’s character, and determine how this generic shift impacts the key elements of her persona, with regard to her embodiment of imperialist desire and her tendency to subvert power structures.

Helen appears in Book 2 of the Histories, in which Herodotus expands upon the history and culture of Egypt. It is key that Herodotus interweaves Helen into his account of Egypt, as the upside-down customs of Egypt reflect Helen in more ways than not (Hdt. 2.35.1-2):

Νείλου µέν νυν πέρι τοσαῦτα εἰρήσθω: ἔρχοµαι δὲ περὶ Αἰγύπτου µηκυνέων τὸν λόγον, ὅτι πλεῖστα θωµάσια ἔχει ἢ ἡ ἄλλη πᾶσα χώρη καὶ ἔργα λόγου µέζω παρέχεται πρὸς πᾶσαν χώρην τούτων εἵνεκα πλέω περὶ αὐτῆς εἰρήσεται. Αἰγύπτιοι ἅµα τῷ οὐρανῷ τῷ κατὰ σφέας ἐόντι ἑτεροίῳ καὶ τῷ ποταµῷ φύσιν ἀλλοίην παρεχοµένῳ ἢ οἱ ἄλλοι ποταµοί, τὰ πολλὰ πάντα ἔµπαλιν τοῖσι ἄλλοισι ἀνθρώποισι ἐστήσαντο ἤθεά τε καὶ νόµους: ἐν τοῖσι αἱ µὲν γυναῖκες ἀγοράζουσι καὶ καπηλεύουσι, οἱ δὲ ἄνδρες κατ᾽ οἴκους ἐόντες ὑφαίνουσι: ὑφαίνουσι δὲ οἱ µὲν ἄλλοι ἄνω τὴν κρόκην ὠθέοντες, Αἰγύπτιοι δὲ κάτω.

Now this much must be said about the Nile; I am intending to lengthen my speech about Egypt since it has the most wonders or because every other place also presents deeds beyond description, on account of these things more will be said about the entirety of Egypt. With regard to the different climate there and with regard to the river being different than all other rivers, the Egyptians have instituted many customs and laws that are the reverse of other men; the women frequent the markets and trade goods while the men weave at home; and while others weave by pushing the woof upwards, the Egyptians weave downwards.

29 Romm 1998, 17. 30 Goldhill 2002, 10. 31 Ibid, 12.

25 In this description, Herodotus establishes a paradoxical relationship between Egypt and Greece.32

Through this paradox, Herodotus casts Egypt as “a place of chaos, a place of mixed up categories.”33 The foreignness of the Egyptian landscape, coupled with its backward customs, likens Egypt to the lands the Greeks sought to colonize. Although Herodotus offers no indication that the Greeks wanted to conquer Egypt, there is still something intriguing, perhaps even desirable, in Egypt’s foreignness. The confusion of Egypt’s customs reflects Helen’s own tendency to scramble established structures, from the gender hierarchy to her roles as mother and wife. Helen’s evasion of a traditional model of femininity parallels one of the more significant deviations between Greece and Egypt. In Egypt, women have increased autonomy. While the men weave within the household (evoking the image of Penelope at her loom), the women have access to the public sphere, as they can frequent marketplaces and trade goods. Herodotus’ mention of trade harks back to the Odyssey, in which Helen exchanged gifts with the women in the Egyptian royal family, thus showcasing a sphere in which Helen experienced more autonomy than within the household. This subversion of gender roles captures the Homeric Helen’s struggle to claim power beyond the boundaries of the household. Perhaps, Helen can cultivate an autonomous identity of her own within Egypt.

Aside from Egypt’s subversion of Greek cultural norms, Herodotus expands upon the sheer wonder of the landscape. Herodotus even admits the θαυµάσιος (“wonder/marvel,” 2.35.1) of Egypt is what lengthens this Egyptian section.34 Further, Herodotus characterizes these

32 How and Wells 1967, 179. 33 Dougherty 1993, 51. 34 Thucydides applies variations of θαυµάσιος to his description of Sicily in Book 6 of the History of the Peloponnesian War. These similar descriptions cast both lands as objects of desire in the eyes of the Greeks.

26 wonders as λόγου µέζω (“beyond description,” 2.35.1), thus underscoring the splendor of these sites. The fantastical and indescribable elements of Egypt’s landscape also mirror the tempting aspects of Helen’s beauty and her divine lineage. Just as wonder endears Egypt to Herodotus, wonder endears Helen to her lovers. In this way, both Egypt and Helen instill desire within the eyes of their beholders; specifically, within the eyes of the Greeks.

Although Herodotus mentions Helen in Book 1 of the Histories, she surfaces as a prominent figure halfway through Book 2 when Herodotus stumbles upon a temple called the

ξείνης Ἀφροδίτης (“Foreign Aphrodite,” 2.112.2).35 The presence of this temple and its corresponding inscription offer the first seeds of evidence that Helen could have visited Egypt

(2.112.2):

περιοικέουσι δὲ τὸ τέµενος τοῦτο Φοίνικες Τύριοι, καλέεται δὲ ὁ χῶρος οὗτος ὁ συνάπας Τυρίων στρατόπεδον. ἔστι δὲ ἐν τῷ τεµένεϊ τοῦ Πρωτέος ἱρὸν τὸ καλέεται ξείνης Ἀφροδίτης: συµβάλλοµαι δὲ τοῦτο τὸ ἱρὸν εἶναι Ἑλένης τῆς Τυνδάρεω, καὶ τὸν λόγον ἀκηκοὼς ὡς διαιτήθη Ἑλένη παρὰ Πρωτέι, καὶ δὴ καὶ ὅτι ξείνης Ἀφροδίτης ἐπώνυµον ἐστί: ὅσα γὰρ ἄλλα Ἀφροδίτης ἱρά ἐστι, οὐδαµῶς ξείνης ἐπικαλέεται.

The Phoenicians of Tyre dwell around this precinct, and altogether the place is called the camp of the Tyrians. But in the precinct of Proteus there is a temple called the temple of the Foreign Aphrodite; I suppose that this is a temple of Helen the daughter of Tyndareus, and having heard the story about her stay with Proteus, since it in fact bears the significant name of the Foreign Aphrodite. For none of the other temples of Aphrodite are called by that name.

Herodotus happens upon many religious sites in the public precincts of Egypt, yet the distinction of ξένος captures Herodotus’ attention. Herodotus believes this statue could be attributed to

Helen on behalf of her travels to Egypt as a ξένος (“stranger/guest”), coupled with her

35 See Austin 1994, 122: There’s an ambiguity to the title of ξείνης Ἀφροδίτης. While most translators have chosen to take the phrase as “The Foreign Aphrodite,” as I have chosen here, it could also be interpreted as “The Guest Aphrodite” or “The Stranger Aphrodite.” Fittingly enough, this ambiguity compliments the complexity of Helen’s identity that I have addressed, thus far.

27 characteristic association to Aphrodite. However, the significance of ξένος harks back to the desirability behind a subject’s foreignness. Akin to the Greeks’ fascination with the different customs of Egypt, the foreignness of Helen manifests as unique to the Egyptians. Helen’s foreignness not only surfaces in her acute difference from other Greek women, with respect to her remarkable beauty and her resistance to conform to preset standards, but also in the distance that must be traveled to claim her. Thus, this title not only suggests Helen’s presence as a guest in the kingdom of Proteus. Rather, ξείνης Ἀφροδίτης emphasizes the very qualities that make Helen a symbol for imperialist desire.

Although the Egyptians grant Helen a divine status by equating her to Aphrodite,

Herodotus presents a “demythologized version” of Helen.36 Herodotus reconfigures Helen’s character in a more realistic light by referring to her as Ἑλένης τῆς Τυνδάρεω (“Helen, the daughter of Tyndareus,” 2.112.2). While in the Odyssey, Homer retains her divine parentage by

Zeus and Leda, Herodotus stresses the realism of her character by relating Helen to her mortal father, Tyndareus. Thus, in Herodotus’ retelling, Helen is not born from the egg of a swan nor does she have the status of a demi-god. In contrast to the divine aura that surrounds Helen in the

Homeric epics, Herodotus’ Helen is remarkably normal. While Herodotus alludes to Helen’s beauty in the Egyptians’ comparison of her to Aphrodite, he does not develop this crucial element of her previous literary invocations. By depriving Helen of both her divine heritage and her sensual beauty, Herodotus strips Helen of a coherent identity of her own. Indeed, the only aspect of Helen’s character Herodotus divulges is her relationship to her father Tyndareus. Thus, instead of holding an identity of her own, Herodotus’ Helen is largely defined by her relationship

36 Blondell 2013, 145

28 to the masculine figures in her life. Ultimately, Herodotus utilizes this version of an unremarkable Helen to address the futility of the Trojan War and the falseness of imperialist desire. If Helen holds none of the value that made her alluring in the epics of Homer, Herodotus reduces the conflict that sparked the Trojan War to a “foolish dispute” over an average woman.37

Shortly after the discovery of the “Foreign Aphrodite” inscription, Herodotus introduces an alternative tale, first developed by Stesichorus, in which Helen never successfully makes it to

Troy. Instead, after a ruinous shipwreck, the king of Egypt, Proteus, takes Helen in, and forces

Paris to continue onwards to Troy without his Spartan treasures. While both Herodotus and

Stesichorus utilize this version of Helen’s mythology to comment on the futility of war,

Herodotus deprives Helen of any role in the events of the Trojan War. The Homeric Helen manifested as both a destructive force and a poet, yet Herodotus’ Helen is passive and silent

(2.115.1-4):

ἀκούσας δὲ ταῦτα ὁ Θῶνις συλλαµβάνει τὸν Ἀλέξανδρον καὶ τὰς νέας αὐτοῦ κατίσχει, µετὰ δὲ αὐτόν τε τοῦτον ἀνήγαγε ἐς Μέµφιν καὶ τὴν Ἑλένην τε καὶ τὰ χρήµατα, πρὸς δὲ καὶ τοὺς ἱκέτας. ἀνακοµισθέντων δὲ πάντων, εἰρώτα τὸν Ἀλέξανδρον ὁ Πρωτεὺς τίς εἴη καὶ ὁκόθεν πλέοι. ὁ δέ οἱ καὶ τὸ γένος κατέλεξε καὶ τῆς πάτρης εἶπε τὸ οὔνοµα, καὶ δὴ καὶ τὸν πλόον ἀπηγήσατο ὁκόθεν πλέοι. µετὰ δὲ ὁ Πρωτεὺς εἰρώτα αὐτὸν ὁκόθεν τὴν Ἑλένην λάβοι: πλανωµένου δὲ τοῦ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἐν τῷ λόγῳ καὶ οὐ λέγοντος τὴν ἀληθείην, ἤλεγχον οἱ γενόµενοι ἱκέται, ἐξηγεύµενοι πάντα λόγον τοῦ ἀδικήµατος. τέλος δὲ δή σφι λόγον τόνδε ἐκφαίνει ὁ Πρωτεύς, λέγων ὅτι ‘ἐγὼ εἰ µὴ περὶ πολλοῦ ἡγεύµην µηδένα ξείνων κτείνειν, ὅσοι ὑπ᾽ ἀνέµων ἤδη ἀπολαµφθέντες ἦλθον ἐς χώρην τὴν ἐµήν, ἐγὼ ἄν σε ὑπὲρ τοῦ Ἕλληνος ἐτισάµην, ὅς, ὦ κάκιστε ἀνδρῶν, ξεινίων τυχὼν ἔργον ἀνοσιώτατον ἐργάσαο: παρὰ τοῦ σεωυτοῦ ξείνου τὴν γυναῖκα ἦλθες. καὶ µάλα ταῦτά τοι οὐκ ἤρκεσε, ἀλλ᾽ ἀναπτερώσας αὐτὴν οἴχεαι ἔχων ἐκκλέψας. ’

But having heard these things Thonis seized Alexander and held back his ships, and after this Thonis brought him to Memphis, along with Helen, the possessions, and the suppliants. But when they had all arrived, Proteus asked Alexander who he was and from where he had sailed. Alexander told him about his lineage and he spoke about the

37 Ibid, 147; Euripides will expand upon the falseness of imperialistic desire through the manifestation of the eidolon in the Helen.

29 name of his country, and also the voyage he led and from where he had sailed. Then, after this, Proteus asked from where he had taken Helen; but since Alexander was evasive in his story and was not telling the truth, the suppliants put him to shame, telling the entire story themselves of Alexander’s wrongdoing. But, in fact, Proteus declared this final word, saying, “If I did not make it customary to never kill a stranger, who having been taken by winds came to my land, I would punish you on behalf of the Greeks, who, O most evil of men, after receiving hospitality, you committed a most sinful deed; you came for the wife of your host. And these things did not ward you off, but you fastened her with feathers, you stole her.”

Although Helen is the subject of this story, Herodotus focuses upon the conflict between Paris and Proteus. Within this passage, Herodotus only refers to Helen by name twice. The first appearance of her name surfaces in Herodotus’ description of Paris’ stolen goods from the

Spartan palace. By listing her among these goods, Herodotus equates Helen to one of Paris’ numerous stolen items. The inclusion of Helen in this list harks back to the Odyssey, in which

Homer likens Helen to Menelaus’ spoils of war. However, at least Homer added some justification to Helen’s value by fully developing her divine lineage and alluring presence. In contrast, Herodotus’ diminution of Helen interrogates the worth of these stolen goods, and, by extension, the cause of the Trojan War.

Herodotus likewise strips Helen of her role as a storyteller. As Proteus questions Paris, the Egyptian royal does not give Helen the opportunity to speak for herself. But rather, Paris speaks on her behalf, and he has the power to twist the truth of Helen’s story and her reputation.

Although the seizure of Helen is the inciter of the debate between Paris and Proteus, the main issue at play is Paris’ wrongful transgression of guest-policies, rather than Helen’s infidelity.38 To add further damage to Helen’s autonomy, the question of her agency remains even more muddled than in Homeric epic as Proteus characterizes Paris as a thief and Helen as stolen property. At the

38 Ibid, 151.

30 end of the passage, Helen effectively becomes a commodity as her name vanishes from the text.

Herodotus only addresses her with aorist participles, such as ἀναπτερώσας (“having fastened her with feathers,” 2.115.4) and ἐκκλέψας (“having stolen her,” 2.115.4). Each of these descriptions depends upon Paris’ seizure of Helen, contributing to the idea that this abduction has overtaken any previous aspects of her identity. The participle ἀναπτερώσας (“having fastened her with feathers”) is even more interesting, as it strips Helen of her own human identity by giving her animalistic qualities.39 This heated encounter ends with Proteus’ promise to watch over Helen until Menelaus comes to retrieve her. Meanwhile, Proteus allows Paris to return to Troy without his treasures and without Helen, thus emphasizing the futility of the Greek invasion. The Greeks will still sail to Troy, but only to find the absence of Helen within the city walls. Although Helen will remain in Egypt for another ten years, Herodotus offers little indication that Helen takes on the assertive and dominant characteristics of the other Egyptian women. Instead, Helens manifests as a purely passive object as she waits to be transferred from one man to another.

After the Trojan War concludes, Menelaus retrieves Helen. Even though at least ten years have passed, Herodotus suggests nothing has changed with regard to Helen’s passive identity:

καὶ Ἑλένην ἀπαθέα κακῶν ἀπέλαβε, πρὸς δὲ καὶ τὰ ἑωυτοῦ χρήµατα πάντα (“And he took Helen who had not suffered from any evils, and all of his wealth,” 2.119.1). This sentence mirrors the beginning of Paris’ arrival in Egypt when Paris counted Helen among his stolen items. Herodotus does not dwell upon Helen’s experiences in Egypt, nor her reunion with Menelaus. Instead, she is one of many items that must be returned to Menelaus.

39 This avian imagery could be a subtle allusion to Helen’s mythological origins, with respect to Zeus’ transformation into a swan and her birth from an egg.

31 Even though Helen suffered no harm during her stay with the Egyptians, Menelaus subverts the expectations of hospitality in the same way as Paris. Due to adverse sailing weather,

Menelaus slaughters two Egyptian youths in a sacrifice to the gods (2.119.2). In this way,

Herodotus allows his admiration for the honest and hospitable Egyptians to shine. The Egyptians followed the proper rules of the guest-host relationship by caring for Helen in her husband’s absence. In contrast, Menelaus and Paris trampled those rules into the ground through theft and violence.40 Herodotus not only condemns these men’s disregard for hospitality, but also

Menelaus and Paris’ focus on materiality. Both men represent the negative qualities of the imperialist urge, ranging from its greed to its associative violence. Although Herodotus does not intrinsically link these elements to Helen’s character, as she lacks a coherent identity of her own, her abduction still causes these characteristics to emerge in others.

In Herodotus’ invocation of Helen, the infamous femme fatale surfaces as a submissive commodity. Herodotus questions the value of this lackluster Helen, and turns this query into an interrogation of the very foundations of the Trojan War.41 However, this demure characterization of Helen is at odds with the Egyptians’ declaration of Helen as the “Foreign Aphrodite.” Perhaps,

Herodotus’ evaluation of the temple was incorrect, and this temple belongs to another entity. Or, this fondness for Helen says something more about the Egyptians themselves. Unlike the Greeks and Trojans, who see her as an object, the Egyptians may have recognized something glorious within Helen that was worth worshipping.42 This disparity underscores the short sightedness of

40 Austin 1994, 123. 41 See Blondell 2013, 156 for her analysis of Herodotus’ treatment of the Trojan War as a device to foreshadow the Persian Wars. Thucydides will make a similar comparison between the Trojan War and the origins of the Sicilian Expedition, as covered in Chapter 3. 42 Ibid, 158.

32 the imperialistic Greeks, and their ultimate inability to see Helen beyond her role as an item.

Instead of seeing something that must be seized, the Egyptians identified something within Helen that should be celebrated.

Helen as a Subject in Fragment 16

Throughout her literary history, Helen’s autonomy has proven to be a divisive issue. In the Odyssey, Helen attempts to find an identity beyond her status as one of Menelaus’ possessions and a reputation beyond her complicated role in the Trojan War. While Helen, and even Menelaus, attribute her elopement and later actions in Troy to the mechanisms of the gods, this rationale lacks insight into Helen’s own desires. As Ruby Blondell notes, Helen and

Menelaus’ displacement of blame follows a trend throughout the Homeric epics of Greeks failing to fully blame Helen, in an effort to preserve the purpose behind their war with Troy.43 In the end, Helen is unable to achieve her goal of solidifying power within Sparta and retreats back into the periphery.

In the Histories, Helen manifests as a purely passive figure, and Herodotus fails to develop her character beyond her identity as an object. Lacking both agency and a voice, the

Helen of the Histories faces objectification at the hands of Paris and Menelaus. In a similar way,

Herodotus’ main use for Helen is as a symbol in his narrative. Herodotus utilizes Helen’s objectivity in order to comment on the futility of imperialist desire.

Prior to Euripides’ Helen, few ancient authors attempted to resolve the question of

Helen’s agency. In a departure from former iterations of Helen’s character, Sappho refrains from presenting Helen as a destructive force in fragment 16. Instead, Sappho focuses upon Helen’s

43 Ibid, 152.

33 own pursuit of eros, as she emerges as both an object and subject of desire.44 While common issues with Helen’s narrative still come to the surface, such as Helen’s relationship to war and her abandonment of her family, Sappho approaches these toxic elements of Helen’s story in a different light. Ultimately, Sappho flips the gaze of the reader. Instead of contemplating the desire Helen instills in others, Sappho considers the desire that burns within Helen’s heart (LP

16, trans. Powell):

Ο]ἰ µὲν ἰππήων στρότον οἰ δὲ πέσδων 1 οἰ δὲ νάων φαῖσ’ ἐπ[ὶ] γᾶν µέλαι[ν]αν ἔ]µµεναι κάλλιστον ἐγὼ δὲ κῆν’ ὄτ- τω τις ἔραται·

πά]γχυ δ’ εὔµαρες σύνετον πόησαι 5 π]άντι τ[οῦ]τ’· ἀ γὰρ πολὺ περσκέθοισα κάλλος [ἀνθ]ρώπων Ἐλένα [τὸ]ν ἄνδρα τὸν [πανάρ]ιστον

καλλίποισ’ ἔβας ᾽ς Τροίαν πλέοι[σα κωὐδ[ὲ πα]ῖδος οὐδὲ φίλων το[κ]ήων πά[µπαν] ἐµνάσθη, ἀλλὰ παράγαγ’ αὔταν 10 ]σαν

]αµπτον γαρ [ ]...κούφωσ τ[]οήσῃ[ ]ν ..]µε νῦν Ἀναχτορί[α, ὀ] νέµναι- σ᾽οὐ] παρεοισας· 15

τᾶ]ς κε βολλοίµαν ἔρατόν τε βᾶµα κἀµάρυχµα λάµπρον ἴδην προσώπω ἢ τὰ Λύδων ἄρµατα κἀι παωοπλοις πεσδοµ[άχεντας. 20

Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers, others call a fleet the most beautiful of sights the dark earth offers, but I say it’s whatever you love best.

44 Ibid, 115.

34 And it’s easy to make this understood by everyone, for she who surpassed all human kind in beauty, Helen, abandoning her husband -- that best of

men--went sailing off to the shores of Troy and never spent a thought on her child or loving parents: when the goddess seduced her wits and left her to wander.

she forgot them all, she could not remember anything but longing, and lightly straying aside, lost her way. But that reminds me now: Anactoria,

she’s not here, and I’d rather see her lovely step, her sparkling glance and her face than gaze on all the troops in Lydia in their chariots and glittering armor.

Sappho bookends the poem with imagery of war. In the first stanza, Homeric allusions dominate the fragment. For example, the brief catalogue of infantrymen calls to mind the catalogue of Greek ships in the Iliad, and the mention of the γᾶν µέλαι[ν]αν (“black earth,” 2) harks back to a common phrase from the Homeric epics.45 The concluding phrase of the stanza

(κάλλιστον ἐγὼ δὲ κῆν’ ὄτ-/ τω τις ἔραται: “But I say it’s / whatever you love best,” 3-4) evokes an image of Helen and her irresistible beauty, which completes Sappho’s recreation of the Trojan

War. As a whole, this opening stanza functions as a celebration of military victory and public accomplishments, with Helen seemingly situated at the center of these displays of power.46 This image of Helen is familiar; she is the object of desire that must be won through an expensive military campaign.

45 DuBois 1996, 81. 46 Foley 1998, 60-61.

35 In stanza two, Sappho subverts these expectations by revealing Helen is the subject of the previous clause. It is not Helen who is loved best, but rather the object of Helen’s own desire.

This switch from object to subject is a revolutionary innovation in Helen’s literary history.

Sappho’s Helen has moved beyond the women of Homeric epic who either pose a danger to their masculine counterparts or have little agency of their own.47 In this fragment, Sappho transforms

Helen into an agent of her own desire. Unlike the public displays in stanza one, Helen’s desire is private and wholly her own. Thus, militaristic imagery no longer has a place in Helen’s narrative.

The absence of war also points to the type of eros that has struck Helen. This eros is not violent nor does it induce madness within Helen.48 In contrast, the erotic power of Helen’s desire is almost soothing, as suggested by the description of Helen’s light step. As a result, Sappho avoids presenting Helen as a destructive object of male and imperialist desire.49 Sappho’s poem reveals that Helen can simultaneously be the capturer and the captured: she retains her beauty and she has agency of her own.

Even so, Sappho does not paint an entirely innocent version of Helen. In stanzas three and four, Sappho acknowledges Helen’s abandonment of her family in favor of her erotic pursuits. Sappho heightens the emotional response of Helen’s departure through her descriptions of the people she is leaving behind. The text describes Helen’s parents as φίλων (“dear,” 9) and

Menelaus as [πανάρ]ιστον (“the best of all men,” 8).50 By emphasizing the redeemable qualities

47 DuBois 1996, 85. 48 Ibid, 87. 49 Blondell 2013, 115 50 Austin 1990, 59: Sappho’s choice to describe Menelaus with the superlative ariston is puzzling. Throughout the Greek literary canon, Menelaus has come up short to Paris and to the other Greek commanders. Thus, the title of ariston is paradoxical if Sappho intends for her Menelaus to follow this characterization.

36 of Helen’s family, Sappho magnifies the impact of Helen’s offense upon her familial community.51 Interestingly, just as Helen’s desire is one that is private rather than public, her decision solely impacts the private sphere of her family and household. In this instance, her choice is devoid of militaristic consequences.

Yet, Sappho only alludes to Helen’s marital and familial transgressions. This poem puts forward the view that Helen should not be blamed for the Trojan War. While Sappho reincorporates the military imagery in the poem’s final stanza, she contends the personal desire of Helen and the poem’s speaker is worth more than Lydian chariots and shining armor (19-20).

In her rejection of these symbols of male glory and materialism, Sappho renounces “heroic warfare as an object of desire.”52 By absolving Helen of blame in the Trojan War, Sappho simultaneously disassociates Helen from the imperialist eros that lies at the heart of the Trojan conflict. Although Helen’s ultimate decision still has consequences for her family, Sappho offers

Helen the one thing previous authors have denied her: a choice.53

Conclusions

I began this chapter by examining the broader implications of Helen’s character, ranging from her sexual promiscuity to her dual identity as the captured and the capturer. From there, I transitioned to the Odyssey. In the Odyssey, imperialist eros still haunts the Spartan household and Helen’s identity. Homer emphasizes this instability through the narrative competition between Helen and Menelaus. As a result of her “good drugs” and the power of her own voice,

51 Blondell 2013, 116. 52 Ibid. 53 Dodson-Richardson 2010, 8: There is still Helen’s characteristic ambiguity within Sappho 16. Although Helen makes the choice to pursue her unnamed lover, assumedly Paris, the power of eros and Aphrodite herself lead her on. Thus, Aphrodite’s intervention complicates whether or not Helen’s choice was fully her own.

37 Helen emerges as a masterful poet and storyteller. However, in spite of the power she gains in this role, Menelaus’ intentional silencing of her voice curtails the power she had briefly claimed.

Eros still remains a part of Helen’s identity, and as a result, she engages in a constant power struggle with Menelaus as the married couple contend for a presence and a voice within the

Spartan household.

After my analysis of the Odyssey, I explored the paradoxical world of Egypt in Book 2 of

Herodotus’ Histories. In Herodotus’ description of the Egyptian landscape and the customs of

Egypt, the historian provides a precursor to the ancient Greek perception of Egypt as a fantastical land. In tandem with this analysis, I considered the ways in which elements of Helen’s character manifest within the Egyptian landscape, ranging from the reversed gender norms to the wondrous elements of the landscape. From there, I analyzed Herodotus’ alternative view on

Helen’s role in the Trojan War. Deriving inspiration from Stesichorus, Herodotus contends Helen never made it to Troy, but rather she remained in Egypt for the duration of the conflict. However,

Herodotus focuses on the objectification of Helen, rather than developing her into a fully formed character. In contrast to the vocal charisma of the Homeric Helen, Herodotus’ Helen is completely silent and passive. Through his presentation of an objectified Helen, Herodotus interrogates the very cause of the Trojan War and the falseness of imperialistic eros. In spite of her passivity, Helen’s abduction still sows the seeds of the Trojan conflict, and incites imperialist desire, along with its associative greed and violence, within Menelaus and Paris.

I concluded my analysis of Helen’s literary history with a close reading of Sappho 16. In this poem, Helen shifts from an object of desire to a subject who actively pursues her own desires. Further, Sappho distances her version of Helen from the war culture of the Iliad, and

38 instead emphasizes Helen’s personal desires. While Helen’s choice is not without consequence, she does not fully embody the same maddening eros of her previous literary invocations. This version of Helen displays the flexibility of her mythic tradition and the ease with which her eros incites reversals of roles and power dynamics.

Throughout all of these works, there are commonalities that surface in each presentation of Helen. For example, there is a common consideration of the alluring, and at times dangerous, effect of Helen. She has the potential to ignite eros within all who tread too close; an eros that is both desirous and an eros that fractures traditional systems of power. Specifically, there is an imperialistic angle to Helen’s eros. In all three of these works, there is a value behind Helen that simultaneously brings glory and superiority to the beholder. Each author questions the very truth behind this desire, thus interrogating the intent behind the pursuit of an empire. Moving forward,

I explore how this imperialistic desire manifests within Euripides’ Helen, and how this eros impacts not only the characters of the tragedy, but the very structure of the play itself.

39 Chapter 2: Imperialistic Intent and Genre Play in Euripides’ Helen

Since its first recorded performance in 412 BCE, Euripides’ Helen has puzzled and confounded audiences and scholars. While Helen certainly has the capacity to be enjoyed by audiences, the play’s inclusion of comedic elements and its “happy-ending” call into question whether or not the play adheres to tragic conventions.54 This confusion of genre has resulted in numerous interpretations of Helen’s meaning and the intentionality behind its composition. One common interpretation situates Helen as an early example of a romantic tragedy and a precursor to the escapist fantasy novels of the Second Sophistic.55 Proponents of this reading often focus on the comedic dialogue of Helen’s second act and Euripides’ integration of romantic motifs into the play, such as Helen and Menelaus’ moment of recognition, the exotic Egyptian setting, and the play’s infamous, light-hearted ending. While such critics still consider Helen canonical in spite of its generic confusion, others have labeled the play a complete farce. In the ancient world,

Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae parodied iconic scenes from the play, which exaggerated the improbability of the play’s plot and the virtuous portrayal of Helen. Most notably, Robert Verrall contended the play was never meant to grace the Athenian stage during the Great Dionysia, but rather that it was thrown together for a gathering at an island house party.56

Whether viewed as a romance or a complete farce, both of these approaches struggle to find meaning in the midst of the play’s inherent strangeness. Such interpretations often undercut the more serious and philosophical aspects of the play, as seen in A.M. Dale’s stinging

54 Segal 1971, 554. 55 See Mastronarde 1999, 36-39 for analyses of Helen, among other Euripides’ plays, as a “romantic tragedy” or a “tragicomedy” and Pucci 1997, 56-66 for his reading of comic elements within the play’s happy ending, which he refers to as a “comedy of escape.” 56 Pippin 1960, 151.

40 commentary that “there is no metaphysical or psychological depth here, nor would anything of the kind be either conceivable or appropriate.”57 In stark contrast, reading Helen through the historical lens of the heightened political and military scene of 5th-century Athens allows the play to be viewed in a serious light. At the time of Helen’s first recorded performance, Athens was recovering from the disastrous conclusion to the Sicilian Expedition (415-413 BCE). The infamous naval venture came at a time when “desire fell on all alike” (Thuc. 6.24) as Alcibiades placed dreams of a sweeping Athenian empire into the minds of young Athenians. While the departure of the Athenian armada was met with a raucous and glamorous fanfare, the Athenian envoys found that Sicily lacked the wealth and riches promised by Alcibiades.58 To add insult to injury, the Athenian armada and its hoplites suffered major defeats against the better-equipped

Syracusans. With his reputation temporarily tarnished by the destruction of the Herms and his arrest imminent, Alcibiades defected to Spartan forces. The Sicilian expedition subsequently collapsed under the weak Athenian leadership of Nicias and Demosthenes.59

Although Euripides sets Helen in a fantasy world, the real anxieties of Athens in the aftermath of the Sicilian Expedition penetrate the text. The theme of the futility of war is a center-piece of the play, as Euripides utilizes the idea of Helen’s eidolon (“image/double'') to reconfigure the Trojan War into a useless military venture. Further, the mock-heroic characterization of Menelaus not only condemns materialism, but also interrogates the realism behind the heroic ideal. These observations are not necessarily new, with scholars reading Helen as a piece of anti-war propaganda since the early 20th century.60 Others have considered the

57 Dale 1967, 16. 58 Hale 2010, 188-190. 59 Ibid. 60 See Drew 1930, 187-189.

41 composition of Helen, and plays of its like, as a response to the demand for more comical performances in light of the destruction of the Athenian fleet and the subsequent financial crisis in Athens.61

I suggest Euripides used Helen to represent the imperialistic desire of Athens and its associative destructiveness. This concept builds on David Rosenbloom’s interpretation of The

Trojan Women, in which he views Helen as “a figure for exploring imperialist desire, appropriation, and justification…Helen embodies the objectives and cost of Athenian naval imperialism.”62 Rosenbloom applied this analysis to Helen’s character in the Trojan Women, and

I argue it is equally applicable to Euripides’ Helen.

This chapter demystifies the puzzle that is Euripides’ Helen through a historical lens. I begin with a close analysis of Helen’s character as I consider how her development both echoes and contradicts the previous iterations of her character, as addressed in Chapter 1. In addition, I consider how placing the innovation of a chaste Helen in direct opposition with her seductive eidolon builds upon the theme of appearance versus reality and the difference between the embodiment of a place versus the embodiment of a concept or ideal. Then, I proceed to the play’s setting, Egypt, and evaluate how this location functions as an imaginative, foreign landscape that is as desirous as Helen’s eidolon. My investigation concludes with a consideration of the generic classification of the play. The play’s inability to remain defined by a singular genre, or even a

61 The other Euripidean plays performed at this time, including Ion (413 BCE), Andromeda (412 BCE), and Iphigenia in Aulis (405 BCE), share romantic motifs of recognition, reunion and an optimistic conclusion. See Hale 2010, 206-207 on the generic shift of Euripides following the Sicilian Expedition. See Segal 1995, 49 for his analysis on Athens’ faltering economy after the conclusion of the Sicilian Expedition. 62 Rosenbloom 2006, 248.

42 singular interpretation, ties into the play’s function as a critique on the shifting nature of the

Athenian political scene.

Object of Desire to Director of the Play: The Morphology of Helen’s Character

In the first phase of my analysis, I dissect Euripides’ unique spin on Helen as I trace the development of her character in three different stages of the play: the opening prologue, her reconciliation with Menelaus, and the hatching of the escape plan. Throughout each of these sections, Euripides pays homage to previous iterations of Helen’s character, while simultaneously allowing his interpretation to manifest as a purely Spartan version of Helen.

Beginning with the play’s emotional opening monologue, Euripides actively subverts his audience’s expectations of Helen, both in terms of her mythological origins and her defining characteristics. The Helen of this story was never in Troy. Drawing inspiration from Stesichorus and Herodotus, Euripides places Helen in Egypt where she has spent 17 years under the protection of King Proteus.63 In her place, the gods conjured an eidolon, a double, which Paris whisks away to Troy. Proteus’ son Theoclymneus seeks to marry Helen following the death of his father. This marriage proposal threatens Helen’s chastity and her loyalty to Menelaus. The play opens in light of this recent development as Helen sits atop the tomb of Proteus and presents a revisionist history of her story. Helen refrains from revealing all of the details at once as she traces her history from her supposed mythical roots to the dramatic present of the monologue.64

In this way, Euripides lays out the play’s key themes and presents Helen as sympathetic and emotionally vulnerable, which stands in direct contrast with previous iterations of her character.

63 See Holmberg 1995, 24 for an in-depth analysis of the aforementioned Stesichorus’ fragment. This is the first time the variant of Helen’s eidolon appears in Classical literature. 64 Allan 2008, 144.

43 As Euripides steeps Helen’s character in realism, the playwright puts the mythical part of her identity up for speculation as Helen questions the truth behind the coupling of Zeus and Leda

(Helen’s divine parents). The first of these inset palimpsests restructures Helen’s origin story, in which Euripides introduces the theme of dualities through his contrast of myth and reality (Hel.

16-24):65

Ἑλένη ἡµῖν δὲ γῆ µὲν πατρὶς οὐκ ἀνώνυµος Σπάρτη, πατὴρ δὲ Τυνδάρεως: ἔστιν δὲ δὴ λόγος τις ὡς Ζεὺς µητέρ᾽ ἔπτατ᾽ εἰς ἐµὴν Λήδαν κύκνου µορφώµατ᾽ ὄρνιθος λαβών, ὃς δόλιον εὐνὴν ἐξέπραξ᾽ ὑπ᾽ αἰετοῦ δίωγµα φεύγων, εἰ σαφὴς οὗτος λόγος: Ἑλένη δ᾽ ἐκλήθην. ἃ δὲ πεπόνθαµεν κακὰ λέγοιµ᾽ ἄν.

Helen Our fatherland, Sparta, is not without name, My father was Tyndareus; but in fact there is some story about how Zeus flew to my mother, Leda, after he took on the form of a bird, a swan, who achieved a deceitful bed fleeing the pursuit of an eagle, if this story is true; I am called Helen. I would like to talk about the horrible things that I have suffered.

In this first part of her monologue, Helen grounds herself in reality by rejecting her mythical heritage. She proclaims Sparta is her homeland and Tyndareus is her father. It is not a coincidence that the first identifiable feature of Helen’s character is her Spartan heritage. In doing so, Euripides illuminates Helen’s desire to distance herself from her former persona as

“Helen of Troy” and reclaim her Spartan roots. Further, this focus on Sparta highlights Helen’s

65 Euripides utilization of dualities harks back to my analysis of the Odyssey, in which Homer filled the Spartan palace with dualities, as noted in Bergren 2008, 111-130.

44 wish to return to her homeland. Euripides strengthens this desire through the utilization of the first plural form of ἡµῖν (“we,” 16). While this form can extend to Helen and the chorus of

Spartan handmaidens, ἡµῖν simultaneously intensifies Helen’s current isolation as she remains apart from the chorus. The word ἡµῖν implies Helen longs to reintegrate herself into a larger community: her home.

Through the tale of Zeus and Leda, Euripides introduces a key component of imperialism: “Desiring someone else’s property defines the imperialist urge.”66 Euripides incorporates the rhetorical trope of epanorthosis to cast Helen’s mythological origin story in an uncertain light. This literary strategy involves the presentation and then subsequent redaction of information in favor of new details.67 Helen first refers to Leda as simply her mother before referring to her by name in the following line. Shortly after, Zeus’ bestial form is initially described as an ὄρνις (“bird,” 19), until Helen clarifies Zeus was a κύκνος (“swan,” 19). Zeus’ own use of metamorphosis suggests the inherent deceitfulness of the deed, and by extension the deceitfulness of the myth itself.68 As Zeus takes on a different form to capture the object of his desire, Euripides includes the first of many appearances of λαµβάνω (“take,” 19), which strengthens the imperialistic undertones of this passage. This unreliable and erotic passage culminates with the question: is the story true? Here, Helen presents a direct challenge to the audience, and urges them to reflect on the truth of her mythical origins and the truthfulness behind the creation of a myth.69

66 Rosenbloom 2006, 254. 67 See Carson 1996, 27 for another example of epanorthosis in Sappho fragment 105a, in which she analyzes how Sappho’s use of this rhetorical motif makes the iconic apple of desire into an even more alluring object. 68 Allan 2008, 149. 69 Ibid.

45 Helen’s history blurs the lines between realism and fantasy as she transitions to her involvement, or lack thereof, in the Trojan War. In this passage, Euripides introduces the concept of the eidolon, which creates an entirely new string of dualities to consider, such as the relationship between truth and fiction and the disparity between the two versions of Helen

(23-41):

ἦλθον τρεῖς θεαὶ κάλλους πέρι Ἰδαῖον ἐς κευθµῶν᾽ Ἀλέξανδρον πάρα, Ἥρα Κύπρις τε διογενής τε παρθένος, µορφῆς θέλουσαι διαπεράνασθαι κρίσιν. τοὐµὸν δὲ κάλλος, εἰ καλὸν τὸ δυστυχές, Κύπρις προτείνασ᾽ ὡς Ἀλέξανδρος γαµεῖ, νικᾷ. λιπὼν δὲ βούσταθµ᾽ Ἰδαῖος Πάρις Σπάρτην ἀφίκεθ᾽ ὡς ἐµὸν σχήσων λέχος. Ἥρα δὲ µεµφθεῖσ᾽ οὕνεκ᾽ οὐ νικᾷ θεάς, ἐξηνέµωσε τἄµ᾽ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ λέχη, δίδωσι δ᾽ οὐκ ἔµ᾽, ἀλλ᾽ ὁµοιώσασ᾽ ἐµοὶ εἴδωλον ἔµπνουν οὐρανοῦ ξυνθεῖσ᾽ ἄπο, Πριάµου τυράννου παιδί: καὶ δοκεῖ µ᾽ ἔχειν — κενὴν δόκησιν, οὐκ ἔχων. τὰ δ᾽ αὖ Διὸς βουλεύµατ᾽ ἄλλα τοῖσδε συµβαίνει κακοῖς: πόλεµον γὰρ εἰσήνεγκεν Ἑλλήνων χθονὶ καὶ Φρυξὶ δυστήνοισιν, ὡς ὄχλου βροτῶν πλήθους τε κουφίσειε µητέρα χθόνα γνωτόν τε θείη τὸν κράτιστον Ἑλλάδος. Φρυγῶν δ᾽ ἐς ἀλκὴν προυτέθην ἐγὼ µὲν οὔ, τὸ δ᾽ ὄνοµα τοὐµόν, ἆθλον Ἕλλησιν δορός. λαβὼν δέ µ᾽ Ἑρµῆς ἐν πτυχαῖσιν αἰθέρος νεφέλῃ καλύψας — οὐ γὰρ ἠµέλησέ µου Ζεύς — τόνδ᾽ ἐς οἶκον Πρωτέως ἱδρύσατο, πάντων προκρίνας σωφρονέστατον βροτῶν, ἀκέραιον ὡς σῴσαιµι Μενέλεῳ λέχος.

Three goddesses came to a hiding place on Mount Ida to the side of Paris concerning their beauty, Hera and Cypress and the virgin daughter of Zeus, wishing to settle the beauty contest. But having offered my beauty so that Paris would marry me, if what brings misfortune can be beautiful,

46 Cypress won. But having left his ox-stalls, Paris of Mount Ida came to Sparta so that he could have me in marriage. But Hera was offended, on account of losing to the goddesses, and she turned my marriage to Paris into thin air, but she did not give me to the child of the ruler Priam, but an image similar to me, it was breathing, having been made from the sky, and he thinks that he has me — an empty fancy, but he does not have me. Then again the plans of Zeus in their turn reinforce these woes; for he brought war to the land of the Greeks and to the wretched Phrygians, so that he might lighten mother Earth of a great number of mortals and so that he might bring fame to the best of the Greeks. As for me, I was put forward as a prize of the spear for the Greeks against the strength of the Phrygians, not me however, but my name. But having taken me into the recesses of the sky, and having hidden me in the clouds — for Zeus was neglectful of me — Hermes set me down at this house of Proteus, he chose the most self-controlled of all men, so that I might keep my bed pure for Menelaus.

Helen believes her beauty and subsequent fame are destructive forces rather than a gift or asset.70

In contrast, the eidolon’s primary attribute is its beauty, or its “empty fancy” (16). The emptiness of the eidolon does not mean it lacks living qualities. Euripides infers it can speak, breathe, and presumably experience human interaction. Yet, it remains a false image.71 Helen comments on the emptiness of the eidolon when she says, “‘It is not me however, but my name’” (32-33).

While the eidolon mirrors the external appearance of Helen, it lacks all other qualities of her identity. By solely embodying her outward beauty, the eidolon comments upon the “lust of the eye,” which induces wonder and erotic desire.72 Similarly, from the moment Aphrodite offers

Helen’s beauty as a prize, Helen becomes a wondrous object in the eyes of Paris. Euripides’

70 Schmeling 2005, 44. 71 Blondell 2013, 220. 72 Cornford 1971, 215.

47 language further strips agency from Helen’s character as she becomes the direct object to the actions of Paris and the gods, and she temporarily loses control over both her body and her own name.73 In this way, the beauty of the eidolon manifests as a valuable commodity that drives

Helen’s pursuers across land, sea, and even air, in the case of the gods. While the ultimate beauty of the eidolon might be the initial motivator, the associative superiority that comes with seizing

Helen through warfare is just as tempting to her pursuers. Through the symbolism of the eidolon,

Euripides touches upon the heart of imperialist desire. There is yearning for the object of desire and the display of power that arises from a successful conquest.74

However, as the myths surrounding Helen’s birth prove unreliable, Euripides questions whether the eidolon, or the imperialist desire it represents, can ever truly be held. Euripides emphasizes the falseness of the eidolon’s image in the following phrase: καὶ δοκεῖ µ᾽ ἔχειν —

κενὴν δόκησιν, οὐκ ἔχων (“And he thinks that he has me —an empty fancy, but he does not have me,” 25-6). If the eidolon cannot be held, and is in fact “empty,” Euripides suggests the imperialist desire of the eidolon is equally unattainable. While Euripides’ new Helen grounds herself within the traditions and history of her Spartan home, the fanciful eidolon takes on the concept of what the Greeks desire: conquest and wealth. To Euripides’ Athenian audience, the eidolon reflects what Athens desires, what Athens wants to become, and ultimately, what Athens will never be — an empire.

In sharp contrast to the seductive illusion of the eidolon, the real Helen rejects her beauty.

Helen acknowledges her beauty’s destructive potential when she pities the Φρυξὶ δυστήνοισιν

(“wretched Trojans,” 38). In opposition, it is her purity that Helen finds most valuable, as she

73 Allan 2008, 153. 74 Rosenbloom 2006, 257.

48 keeps her bed ἀκέραιον (“pure,” 48) for Menelaus. By placing ἀκέραιον at the beginning of the clause, Euripides underscores the value Helen places upon her chastity, emphasizing it as one of her defining characteristics.75 The distinction of her purity also indicates the imperialist desire of the eidolon does not define the real Helen; she represents the idealism that comes with lacking the greed intrinsically linked with imperialistic desire. Helen’s denouncement of her beauty allows her to manifest as a “transformed Pandora” since she recognizes the destructiveness of her own beauty and proves through her actions she is capable of demonstrating virtue.76

Helen’s insistence on her own virtuosity draws a conspicuous parallel to one of the most flawless women of the classical canon: Penelope. Traditionally, the immoral Helen has acted as a literary foil to the steadfast Penelope.77 In Helen, Euripides again subverts expectations by asserting Helen is just as chaste and honorable as Penelope — a notion that would have been novel to the initial audience of Helen. This new Helen manifests as the fantastical ideal of feminine virtue that Penelope exemplifies. In contrast, the Helens of past mythic canon represent the seductive falseness of imperialist desire. By associating his Helen with Penelope, whose identity is intertwined with the hearth and familial responsibility, Euripides shows there is an alternative to the destructiveness of the former Helens. Through the adoption of feminine virtue,

Helen has the ability to strengthen her community, instead of harming the polis.

75 Allan 2008, 154. 76 Blondell 2013, 209. 77 See Od. 23.246-52: Penelope makes a direct comparison between the preservation of her chastity and Helen’s shameless elopement with Paris. Interestingly, Penelope absolves part of the blame from Helen by attributing her folly to the mechanizations of the gods. Even so, Helen’s character remains firmly defined by her infidelity.

49 Euripides strengthens the similarities between these two women when Helen reunites with her long-lost husband, Menelaus. The first 300 lines of the Helen act as a tragedy in theme and tone. However, Menelaus’ entrance tosses the play into a full-fledged comedy (414-29):

Μενελέως ὄνοµα δὲ χώρας ἥτις ἥδε καὶ λεὼς οὐκ οἶδα: ὄχλον γὰρ ἐσπεσεῖν ᾐσχυνόµην ὥσθ᾽ ἱστορῆσαι, τὰς ἐµὰς δυσχλαινίας κρύπτων ὑπ᾽ αἰδοῦς τῆς τύχης. ὅταν δ᾽ ἀνὴρ πράξῃ κακῶς ὑψηλός, εἰς ἀηθίαν πίπτει κακίω τοῦ πάλαι δυσδαίµονος. χρεία δὲ τείρει µ᾽: οὔτε γὰρ σῖτος πάρα οὔτ᾽ ἀµφὶ χρῶτ᾽ ἐσθῆτες: αὐτὰ δ᾽ εἰκάσαι πάρεστι ναὸς ἐκβόλοις ἃ ἀµπίσχοµαι. πέπλους δὲ τοὺς πρὶν λαµπρά τ᾽ ἀµφιβλήµατα χλιδάς τε πόντος ἥρπασ᾽: ἐν δ᾽ ἄντρου µυχοῖς κρύψας γυναῖκα τὴν κακῶν πάντων ἐµοὶ ἄρξασαν ἥκω τούς τε περιλελειµµένους φίλων φυλάσσειν τἄµ᾽ ἀναγκάσας λέχη. µόνος δὲ νοστῶ, τοῖς ἐκεῖ ζητῶν φίλοις τὰ πρόσφορ᾽ ἤν πως ἐξερευνήσας λάβω.

Menelaus But I do not know the name of this land and men; For I am ashamed to fall into a crowd in order to make inquiries, hiding my clothes that are shabby because of my shameful fate. But whenever a lofty man falls badly, he falls into an unaccustomed state worse than one who is already poor. But need presses hard on me; for there is neither grain available nor clothes around my skin; but someone is able to guess this by the cast offs from the ship that I am wearing. But the sea snatched away my bright cloaks and luxurious ornaments from before; I hid my wife in the innermost parts of a cave, the one who started all of these troubles for me, and I have come having compelled those of my friends who have survived to watch over my wife. But I have come alone, searching for what is needed for my friends there, if I may take it somehow having found it.

50 In Helen, Menelaus surfaces as a once glorious hero who has fallen from grace. Similar to

Odysseus’ appearance in the latter half of the Odyssey, Menelaus appears on stage dressed in rags, instead of his λαµπρά ἀµφιβλήµατα (“bright cloaks,” 423). However, while Odysseus’ rags have a grand purpose in the creation of his disguise, Menelaus’ appearance only adds to the ridiculousness of his character. Even Menelaus’ stage entrance adds to this subversion as he springs up from behind the tomb of Proteus rather than entering through a stage door. 78 Dressed in only scraps of clothes, Menelaus resembles a vagabond, instead of a member of Greek nobility.

This characterization of Menelaus also rubs against Helen’s view of the importance, or lack thereof, of appearance. While Helen denounces her beauty, Menelaus falls into comedic despair as he laments the loss of his luxurious clothes and items. Menelaus’ insistence on materiality can also be seen in his actions towards the false Helen. For example, Menelaus hides

Helen in a cave, just as Odysseus stores his valuables in the cave on the shores of Ithaca. Yet, unlike Odysseus’ renouncement of war culture in favor of his household and marriage to

Penelope, Menelaus conflates Helen as both his wife and a symbol of his military victory.

Placing Helen under guard in a secret locale establishes a sense that Menelaus wants to keep his most valuable possession safe, but also that he still distrusts his wife. Menelaus exposes his lingering resentment for Helen by likening her to a Pandora-esque figure as Menelaus declares

Helen the cause of κακῶν πάντων (“all of his evils,” 425).79 Further, Menelaus never directly calls Helen by name, but rather refers to her as λέχη, a word meaning both “wife” and the

78 Arnott 1973, 52. 79 See Theog. 590-3 for Euripides’ allusion to the great troubles Pandora brings to mankind.

51 “marriage bed” (427). This word choice not only contributes to Helen’s objectification, but also confines her to a purely sexual role.80 Menelaus’ objectification of Helen ties into his obsession with appearances. The beauty and sensuality of Helen are the prime reasons for Menelaus’ attraction to her, rather than her intelligence and personality. Simultaneously, Menelaus’ inability to see beyond Helen’s beauty results in his failure to recognize the falseness of the eidolon.

Evidently, the imperialistic desire that lies at the heart of Menelaus’ vanity has blinded him, making it impossible for him to distinguish what is real and what is illusory.

Although they have different philosophies on appearance, Helen and Menelaus share a desire to maintain, or in Helen’s case improve, their reputations. But, the individual rationale behind this desire throws another wedge between the couple’s ideals. While Helen hopes to clear her name of the eidolon’s promiscuity, Menelaus wants to retain the heroic identity he cultivated in Troy — an identity which this sudden shipwreck has thrown into severe jeopardy. Here,

Euripides stresses the moral differences between husband and wife, as well as the disparity between Helen’s purity and Menelaus’ flawed imperialist desire. While Helen wishes to reclaim her identity, it is vanity that drives Menelaus. In particular, Menelaus’ conceitedness calls to mind the “decadence and amorality which filled Athens at the end of the Sicilian expedition.”81

Such luxury could be seen in Alcibiades’ displays of wealth within the public spheres of the polis. These public displays later took full form with the launch of the Athenian Armada (Thuc.

6.30-2).82 However, beneath the opulence of the ship’s adornments, a personal greed festered,

80 Allan 2008, 198. 81 Pippin 1960,157: While Pippin argues it is incorrect to read Helen as a critique on Athenian materialism since these qualities best suit Theoclymenus’ identity as a lavish foreign tyrant, I believe this intentional mockery of Menelaus’ obsession over his appearance coupled with my analysis of the eidolon as a beautiful object of desire allows for this critique to be made. 82 See Chapter 3 of this thesis (pg. 109-111) for an analysis of the launch of the Athenian fleet.

52 spurred by imperialistic eros. Likewise, when tragedy strips Menelaus of his luxury, Euripides emphasizes the arrogance and buffoonery that lies beneath his shining cloaks.

Eventually, Helen and Menelaus come face-to-face on the shores of the Nile in a moment that echoes the climactic recognition scene between Penelope and Odysseus in Book 23 of the

Odyssey. In an ironic twist on this canonical moment of recognition, Menelaus’ identity, that of the newcomer, does not need proving.83 Instead, the weight of proof falls upon Helen, which becomes more complicated by the existence of the eidolon. In the following stichomythia,

Euripides’ manipulation of the typical recognition scene allows him to cement the intellectual disparity between Helen and Menelaus.84 Further, through the assertion of Helen’s superior intellect, Euripides centers her as the decisive force that will drive the play to its conclusion

(560-78):85

Ἑλένη ὦ θεοί: θεὸς γὰρ καὶ τὸ γιγνώσκειν φίλους.

Μενελέως Ἑλληνὶς εἶ τις ἢ ἐπιχωρία γυνή;

Ἑλένη Ἑλληνίς: ἀλλὰ καὶ τὸ σὸν θέλω µαθεῖν.

Μενελέως Ἑλένῃ σ᾽ ὁµοίαν δὴ µάλιστ᾽ εἶδον, γύναι.

Ἑλένη ἐγὼ δὲ Μενέλεῴ γε σέ: οὐδ᾽ ἔχω τί φῶ.

Μενελέως

83 Allan 2008, 210. 84 Stichomythia is a dialogue in which characters speak alternating lines of verse, and is used in both tragedy and comedy. Euripides utilizes the rapid-fire style of stichomythia to heighten the comical elements of this passage. 85 Holmberg 1995, 34.

53 ἔγνως γὰρ ὀρθῶς ἄνδρα δυστυχέστατον.

Ἑλένη ὦ χρόνιος ἐλθὼν σῆς δάµαρτος ἐς χέρας.

Μενελέως ποίας δάµαρτος; µὴ θίγῃς ἐµῶν πέπλων.

Ἑλένη ἥν σοι δίδωσι Τυνδάρεως, ἐµὸς πατήρ.

Μενελέως ὦ φωσφόρ᾽ Ἑκάτη, πέµπε φάσµατ᾽ εὐµενῆ.

Ἑλένη οὐ νυκτίφαντον πρόπολον Ἐνοδίας µ᾽ ὁρᾷς.

Μενελέως οὐ µὴν γυναικῶν γ᾽ εἷς δυοῖν ἔφυν πόσις.

Ἑλένη ποίων δὲ λέκτρων δεσπότης ἄλλων ἔφυς;

Μενελέως ἣν ἄντρα κεύθει κἀκ Φρυγῶν κοµίζοµαι.

Ἑλένη οὐκ ἔστιν ἄλλη σή τις ἀντ᾽ ἐµοῦ γυνή.

Μενελέως οὔ που φρονῶ µὲν εὖ, τὸ δ᾽ ὄµµα µου νοσεῖ;

Ἑλένη οὐ γάρ µε λεύσσων σὴν δάµαρθ᾽ ὁρᾶν δοκεῖς;

Μενελέως τὸ σῶµ᾽ ὅµοιον, τὸ δὲ σαφές µ᾽ ἀποστερεῖ.

Helen Oh gods! For it is divine to even recognize friends.

Menelaus Are you a Hellenic woman or are you from this land?

54 Helen I am Hellenic; but I wish to know you too.

Menelaus In fact I have looked upon a woman [who looks] most like Helen.

Helen But I have looked upon you [who looks] like Menelaus at any rate; I do not know what I should say.

Menelaus For you have correctly recognized a most unfortunate man.

Helen O at long last come into the arms of your wife.

Menelaus What sort of wife? Do not touch my clothes.

Helen My father, Tyndareus, gave me to you.

Menelaus O torch-bearing Hecate, send forth kindly visions.

Helen You see me, not the nocturnal attendant of Enodia.

Menelaus Certainly I am not the husband to two wives.

Helen But are you the master of another wife?

Menelaus The one hidden in the cave and I brought her from Troy.

Helen There is no other wife but me.

Menelaus Am I sound of mind, or are my eyes sick?

55 Helen For looking at me do you not seem to see your wife?

Menelaus Your body is similar, but certainty is lacking.

While Euripides applies the model of Odysseus and Penelope’s reunion to this scene, this adaptation underscores how little Menelaus knows about the real Helen. Unlike Odysseus and

Penelope, who have pre-established signs of recognition, Helen and Menelaus must rely completely on the other’s appearance. Despite the passage of time and Menelaus’ new, ragged appearance, Helen immediately recognizes her husband. Helen’s keen eye harks back to the

Homeric Helen’s ability to recognize both Odysseus and Telemachus in Book 4 of the Odyssey.

In the Odyssey, however, Helen utilized this keenness for her own selfish ends to claim power for herself and improve her reputation. In contrast, Euripides’ Helen’s quick recognition of

Menelaus indicates her unwavering loyalty to the memory of her husband and Helen’s own eagerness to resume their relationship. Further, Helen’s lack of blindness once again stresses her distance from imperialist desire. While Helen can distinguish what is real and what is false,

Menelaus’ imperialist eros blinds him from recognizing what is right before his eyes.

When Menelaus confronts this mirror image of Helen, he is unable to reconcile the existence of two Helens. Euripides strengthens the ridiculousness of Menelaus’ situation through the ironic phrasing and structuring of his dialogue. As Menelaus sees double, his own dialogue takes on a doubling structure through the use of µὲν and δὲ clauses beginning at line 576. At times, Menelaus attempts to display his former authority, such as through his imperative commands in lines 568 and 570. Euripides plays these false displays of power for laughs, and

56 ultimately Helen emerges as the superior partner.86 As Ruby Blondell points out, it is difficult to understand what Helen finds redeemable about Menelaus in their grossly unbalanced relationship.87 This interaction alone proves Menelaus does not recognize Helen based on her personality and attributes. The only reasons Menelaus even prolongs this initial conversation are a result of Helen’s Greek identity and the fact her body is ὅµοιον (“similar,” 429) to the eidolon.

While Menelaus eventually believes Helen’s tale about the eidolon and accepts Helen as his wife, his bumbling and comedic personality persists throughout the play. Although Menelaus is meant to parallel Odysseus, his complete buffoonery emphasizes the ways in which Menelaus is not Odysseus. Odysseus has flaws of his own, but his intelligence is irrefutable. In contrast,

Menelaus is a mindless brute in Helen, echoing the Herodetean archetype of a tyrant rather than an admirable military commander. Further, while Odysseus intends to reject the war culture of the Iliad, Menelaus longs to keep living in it. Through these disparities, Euripides has made

Menelaus the literary foil to Odysseus, much like Helen’s relationship to Penelope in the

Odyssey. Thus, the eidolon is not the only false concept in the play. Menelaus’ failure to live up to any standard of heroism exposes this heroic ideal as pure fantasy.88

Although Helen and Menelaus reconcile and the eidolon disappears into the sky, the problem of Theocylmenus remains. While Menelaus proves entirely unhelpful in the process of brainstorming their escape plan, Helen’s autonomy reaches its fullest potential as she orchestrates a fake burial ceremony for a supposedly dead Menelaus (1085-1092):

Ἑλένη

86 These false displays of power also reflect the false reason that drove the Greeks to Troy. Menelaus’ possession of the false eidolon further emphasizes the false qualities of imperialist desire. 87 Blondell 2013, 218. 88 Ibid.

57 αὐτοῦ µέν᾽: ἢν γὰρ καί τι πληµµελές σε δρᾷ, τάφος σ᾽ ὅδ᾽ ἂν ῥύσαιτο φάσγανόν τε σόν. ἐγὼ δ᾽ ἐς οἴκους βᾶσα βοστρύχους τεµῶ πέπλων τε λευκῶν µέλανας ἀνταλλάξοµαι παρῇδί τ᾽ ὄνυχα φόνιον ἐµβαλῶ χροός. µέγας γὰρ ἁγών, καὶ βλέπω δύο ῥοπάς: ἢ γὰρ θανεῖν δεῖ µ᾽, ἢν ἁλῶ τεχνωµένη, ἢ πατρίδα τ᾽ ἐλθεῖν καὶ σὸν ἐκσῷσαι δέµας.

Helen Stay there; for even if he does anything out of line to you, this tomb and your sword should protect you. But having walked into the house I will cut my hair and I will exchange my light clothes for dark ones and I will force my nail into my cheek, bloodying the skin. For, a lot is at stake, and I see two outcomes; Either it is necessary for me to die, if I should be taken while contriving, or it is necessary to return to the fatherland and save your body.

In this instance, Helen utilizes her appearance to her advantage in order to fool Theoclymenus.

Similar to Menelaus, Helen’s beauty primarily concerns the materialistic Egyptian ruler.

However, instead of tricking Theoclymenus with her beauty, she uses “defacement to attend her goal, employing the deceptive feminine snares of coiffure, makeup, and clothing in the inverse of their seductive function.”89 The symbolic cutting of her hair and scarring of her face result in the official renunciation of her once destructive beauty and the imperialistic desire embedded in her flowing locks of hair. Helen acts in direct contrast to the Helen of Euripides’ Orestes through the decision to cut her hair without hesitation.90 While the Helen of Orestes remains the “same woman still” (Or. 129), this version of Helen changes completely, both with regard to her appearance and her newfound leadership role. This change in appearance also presages Helen’s later re-adoption of her role as a traditional wife since her attire reflects a wife in mourning.

89 Ibid, 214. 90 Allan 2008, 263.

58 However, it is worth considering how Helen’s increased power will translate into her role as a traditional Spartan wife. Although Spartan women had a more pronounced role in society than their Athenian counterparts (for example, Spartan wives could manage their own wealth),

Euripides creates a tension between these two emerging aspects of Helen’s identity.91

This scene also solidifies the unique power dynamics of Helen’s marriage, which

Euripides dramatizes by placing Menelaus behind the tomb of Proteus. At the beginning of the play, Helen cowered by the tomb in fear of the sexual advances of Theoclymenus. Now,

Menelaus is a passive victim, whereas Helen actively utilizes her intuition and feminine wiles to plan their escape. Similar to the emasculating effect of Helen’s voice on the Greek soldiers in the

Odyssey, Menelaus’ imperialist desire has rendered him useless.

Helen’s authority translates into her key role in the escape plot. As Helen creates a new costume for herself and gives Menelaus and his sailors directions on how to act in front of

Theoclymenus, shades of Helen’s characterization from Book 4 of the Odyssey come into full form. Just as the Homeric Helen manipulated the emotions of the former soldiers in Sparta with her magical Egyptian drugs, Euripides’ Helen manipulates the appearance of Menelaus’ crew in order to execute her plan — while also in an Egyptian setting. In addition, Euripides builds upon the Homeric Helen’s role as a storyteller. However, instead of utilizing words as a method of persuasion, Euripides’ Helen fittingly uses images to fool Theoclymenus, which strengthens the play’s commentary on the elusiveness and truth behind an image. Through this display of

91 Pomeroy 2008, 243.

59 strategic intellect, Euripides demonstrates Helen is no longer the victim of her story. She has become the director of her own play.92

Helen’s role as a director extends far past executing her escape from Egypt. In fact, it foreshadows her future in Sparta. During the final choral ode, the Chorus describes Helen taking on the leadership position of a chorus leader in a traditional Spartan choral dance (1465-78):

Χορός ἦ που κόρας ἂν ποταµοῦ παρ᾽ οἶδµα Λευκιππίδας ἢ πρὸ ναοῦ Παλλάδος ἂν λάβοις χρόνῳ ξυνελθοῦσα χοροῖς ἢ κώµοις Ὑακίνθου νύχιον ἐς εὐφροσύναν, ὃν ἐξαµιλλησάµενος τροχῷ τέρµονα δίσκου ἔκανε Φοῖβος, τᾷ Λακαί- νᾳ γᾷ βούθυτον ἁµέραν: ὁ Διὸς δ᾽ εἶπε σέβειν γόνος: µόσχον θ᾽, ἃν οἴκοις ἔλειπες, Ἑρµιόναν, ἇς οὔπω πεῦκαι πρὸ γάµων ἔλαµψαν.

Perhaps, she will find the maidens, the daughters of Leukippos, by the swell of the river. Or before the temple of Pallas, you might take part in the dances since you have returned at long last. Or you might take part in the revels of Hyacinth for joy at night, the one whom Phoebus killed after exerting himself with the round discus, But the son of Zeus ordered a day of sacrifice to be observed throughout the Laconian land; you might [find] the young calf you left in the house, Hermione — a torch has not yet lit the way for her marriage.

92 Segal 1971, 594: Similarly, Segal stresses Helen’s flair for artistry in his assertion that she is a “manipulator of techne and mechane, of deception and double vision…”

60

In contrast to the rigid manner of Spartan society, lively musical traditions played an integral role in the practice of Spartan rituals and the symbolic coming-of-age of young maidens.93 The practice of these choral dances tended to be both static and traditional. A member of Spartan royalty acted as the choregos, or choral leader.94 In this final ode, the audience witnesses Helen reclaim her rightful role as a choral leader and become fully entrenched in the stability of Spartan traditions. Helen’s purity, and the stability that comes with it, allows her to reclaim her status in a more stable way than in previous literary invocations where Helen still embodies a chaotic eros, as seen in Helen’s inability to fully adopt her roles of mother and wife in the Odyssey.

As the chorus moves through a virtual tour of Sparta, each scene and locale reflects a segment of Helen’s journey back to Sparta. The chorus’ tour begins on the shores where the daughters of Leukippus dance.95 The presence of these virginal daughters by a river bank evokes the beginning of the play as a chaste Helen lamented her fate on the shores of the Nile. Euripides’ description of the Nile as καλλιπάρθενοι (“beautiful with maidens,” 1) correlates with the chorus’ portrait of the maidens dancing on the river bank in Sparta. Even so, there is a noticeable difference between these two river scenes. While the play opens with an isolated and vulnerable

Helen, the play concludes with Helen’s climatic return to the safety of the Spartan chorus circle.

This disparity underscores Helen’s acceptance into her Spartan community

Next, the chorus moves to the Temple of Athena. Initially, the choice of the Temple of

Athena seems odd, given the scant evidence of the cult’s presence and the prominence of the cult

93 Calame 1997, 141. 94 Gilhuly 2017, 75-76. 95 Allan 2008, 322: According to Allan, this river is likely the Eurotas, which runs through Sparta.

61 of Artemis Orthia among young maidens.96 The choice of the cult of Athena is reasonable in the context of the play since Helen gathered flowers for Athena when Hermes snatched her away.

Further, Athena was one of the three goddesses present at the Judgement of Paris, which was a defining moment in Helen’s story. Further, this association with Athena aligns with the qualities and characteristics of this reformed Helen, especially with respect to Helen and Athena’s civic duties to the polis.97

The third location is the mysteries of Hyacinth, one of the three major cults to Apollo in

Sparta.98 This association between Apollo and Hyacinth represents the trend of a god killing his

“mortal-double,” as seen also with Artemis and Iphigenia and Poseidon and Erectheus.99 In particular, this thematic trend relates to the relationship between Helen and her eidolon. In this case, the eidolon seems to disappear, while the mortal Helen lives.

The final locale of the choral ode symbolizes the conclusion of Helen’s journey: her home in Sparta. At home, Helen becomes more than a choral leader and a sister to her fellow maidens; she resurfaces as both a mother to Hermione and a dutiful wife to Menelaus. The unease and uncertainty that surfaced with Helen’s acceptance of these roles in the Odyssey is markedly absent from this conclusion. Through Helen’s adoption of these traditional roles, both within her familial unit and Spartan rituals, Euripides suggests a peaceful balance has been restored as the chaotic elements of the play’s earlier acts come to a halt.

Nevertheless, as with most aspects of Helen, this choral ode can be viewed through a second, pessimistic lens. There is a hesitancy to the description of each of these events. After the

96 Ibid, 323 and Calame 1997, 157. 97 Calame 1997, 196. 98 Allan 2008, 323. 99 Ibid.

62 forceful future form of ἦ (“she will,” 1465) at the beginning of this clause, Euripides follows with a less certain που (“perhaps,” 1465). Afterwards, a string of potential optatives plagues the rest of the ode, which casts an uncertainty over the idyllic presentation of the Spartan landscape and Helen’s reintegration into Spartan society.100 The chorus’ Eden-like description of Sparta closely parallels the fantastical description of the Egyptian Nile, not only thematically, but in

Euripides’ depiction of both places as worlds of youthfulness and sheltered maidenhood.101 Is this image of Sparta as idyllic and exotic as the Egyptian setting? Could this image of Sparta also evoke the eidolon — a far off concept the audience hopes is true, but can never prove?

Helen’s final actions add to this air of uncertainty. While Helen utilizes her wiles to outwit Theoclymenus, the deceptive metamorphosis of her appearance harks back to the myth of

Zeus and Leda from the beginning of the play (as discussed on page 44 of this thesis), in which

Zeus utilizes transformation to obtain his goal. Is Helen’s identity as a faithful wife true, or just a part of her performance?102 Has this deception tainted the purity of Helen, and thus, made her susceptible to the very imperialist eros she once rejected? In light of these questions, it is important to consider these virtuous ideals manifest in Egypt — a mythical and fantastical land.

This setting further complicates the truthfulness of Helen’s characterization.

100 The Greek optative expresses a wish or hope that has not yet occurred in real time. The uncertainty behind these optatives harks back to the falseness of the eidolon, and, by extension, the imperialistic image it represents. 101 Segal 1971, 572. 102 Blondell 2013, 221: Helen’s self-construction at the end of the play has a meta-theatrical spin. She is a character made and performed by a man. Helen is a figure created to satisfy the desires of a male audience.

63 The Role of Egypt in Helen

If Helen as a literary figure represents countless dualities and contradictions, then Egypt, an exotic and intriguing landscape, is the perfect setting for Euripides’ play. The representation of

Egypt on the Athenian stage served as an imaginative space of endless possibilities, while also providing a way for the Greeks to critique and reconstruct their own identities.103 In this way, the setting of Egypt parallels Euripides’ characterization of the eidolon. Just as the eidolon manifests as an ethereal object of desire, Egypt represents the type of distant and wondrous land the

Athenians were intent on conquering. Charles Segal believes there are two worlds in opposition with each other in Helen: the real and the imaginary.104 In one interpretation, Egypt is viewed as an imaginary world, while Greece is the real world to which Helen and Menelaus eventually return.105 However, just as the truth of Helen’s character remains questionable at the end of the play, Euripides never resolves the distinction between the real and the imaginary.106

At the beginning of Helen’s monologue, she describes the play’s Egyptian setting in vivid detail (1-15):

Ἑλένη Νείλου µὲν αἵδε καλλιπάρθενοι ῥοαί, ὃς ἀντὶ δίας ψακάδος Αἰγύπτου πέδον λευκῆς τακείσης χιόνος ὑγραίνει γύας. Πρωτεὺς δ᾽ ὅτ᾽ ἔζη τῆσδε γῆς τύραννος ἦν, Φάρον µὲν οἰκῶν νῆσον, Αἰγύπτου δ᾽ ἄναξ, ὃς τῶν κατ᾽ οἶδµα παρθένων µίαν γαµεῖ, Ψαµάθην, ἐπειδὴ λέκτρ᾽ ἀφῆκεν Αἰακοῦ.

103 Ibid, 203. 104 Segal 1971, 559. 105 Euripides’ conception of Egypt as an imaginary world provides yet another allusion to the Odyssey. All of the lands to which Odysseus travels are civilizations each imperfect in their own way. The strange power and mysticism of these lands plagues Odysseus until he returns to the stability of Ithaca, much like Helen’s own supposed return to Sparta. 106 Segal 1971, 559.

64 τίκτει δὲ τέκνα δισσὰ τοῖσδε δώµασι, Θεοκλύµενον ἄρσεν᾽ ὅτι δὴ θεοὺς σέβων βίον διήνεγκ᾽ εὐγενῆ τε παρθένον Εἰδώ, τὸ µητρὸς ἀγλάισµ᾽, ὅτ᾽ ἦν βρέφος: ἐπεὶ δ᾽ ἐς ἥβην ἦλθεν ὡραίαν γάµων, καλοῦσιν αὐτὴν Θεονόην: τὰ θεῖα γὰρ τά τ᾽ ὄντα καὶ µέλλοντα πάντ᾽ ἠπίστατο, προγόνου λαβοῦσα Νηρέως τιµὰς πάρα.

Helen These are the rivers of the Nile, beautiful with maidens, which wet the plains and lands of Egypt with shining, melted snow instead of rain from heaven. Proteus was the ruler of the land when he was alive, living on the island of Pharos, but the ruler of Egypt, who married one of the maidens of the sea, Psmanthe, when she cast aside the bed of Aiakos. But she gave birth to two children in this house, a son, Theoklymenos, since in fact he spent his life worshipping the gods, and a well-born maiden, Eido, the honor of her mother when she was an infant; but when she reached the age ripe for marriage, they called her Theonoe; for she knew the thoughts of the gods. Both the things happening and everything that would happen, having received these honors from her ancestor Nereus.

In the opening description of Egypt, Euripides characterizes the locale as a place of wonder and intrigue. There is also a taste of Euripides’ ingenuity in one of the very first words of the play:

καλλιπάρθενοι (“beautiful with maidens,” 1). Quite potentially an original Euripidean coinage, this rare compound adjective establishes Egypt as both a place of beauty and virginal purity, or a

“wish-fulfillment fantasy in which female beauty and virtue coincide.”107 The purity of Egypt’s rivers contrasts with the rivers of Troy, which Helen describes as full of fallen soldiers (52).108

This depicts Egypt as a place free from violence and war — a peaceful standard both

107 Allan 2008, 144; Blondell 2013, 204. 108 Segal 1971, 572.

65 Theoclymenus and Menelaus threaten as the play progresses. Within the pacifist sphere of Egypt,

Helen has remained untainted by the terrors of the Trojan War, and the imperialist drive that spurred it. Much like the virginal beauty of the Nile, Helen’s dual qualities of beauty and virtue can exist in harmony with each other, as her beauty lacks its characteristic destructiveness within the idealistic landscape of Egypt.

Euripides also takes a note from Herodotus’ analysis of Egypt as a place of opposites through his description of the snow watering the plains instead of rain.109 Although Euripides does not expand upon the cultural mores of Egypt to the extent of Herodotus, this strange phenomenon aids Euripides in his characterization of Egypt as a fantastical world where even the strangest things can occur -- such as the existence of a morally pure Helen.

Euripides extends the mysticism of the landscape to the history of the Egyptian royal family. Most notably, Proteus engages in an affair with Psmanthe, the daughter of Nereus. This divine relationship builds upon the mythical quality of Egypt, especially since Helen also casts her own divine birth by Zeus and Leda into the realm of fantasy. Both of these couplings stand in opposition to the value Helen places on her chastity. While Psmanthe puts aside her marital bonds, Helen insists on maintaining the purity of her marriage bed out of respect for Menelaus.

Psmanthe’s affair may be more acceptable in the world of fantasy, but the perseverance of the real Helen’s marriage vows are integral to the idealism and virtue of her character.

In the end, Proteus and Psmanthe bear twins: Theoclymenus and Theonoe. The children’s names highlight their divine lineage, however, the siblings differ in their connections to the

109 The annual inundation of the Nile puzzled numerous ancient authors. Euripides’ hypothesis of snow’s role in watering the plains was one of many theories. See Allan 2008, 145 for a record of these. The mystery of the inundation only adds to Egypt’s mysticism .

66 divine world. Theone, the daughter of Proteus, has prophetic foresight (14). Before her appearance on stage, the playwright already establishes Theonoe as a level-headed and just character. Even the meaning of her name, “she who knows divine things,” foreshadows her role as a surveyor of justice.110 On the other hand Theoclymenus, the son of Proteus, embodies an exaggerated version of a Herodotean foreign tyrant: he is overly flamboyant, arrogant, and excessive.111 Theoclymenus’ identity as a τύραννος (“tyrant,” 4) aligns him with the play’s other foreign rulers, such as Proteus (4) and Priam (35). Although Helen depicts Priam and Proteus in a rather favorable light, the designation of τύραννος draws a divide between this foreign, even barbaric, style of governance and the democratic government of Athens.112

While Egypt functions as an imaginative landscape, it also represents the Underworld.

The play routinely highlights the duality between life and death, with death playing a particularly important role in the plot. Ranging from the prominent landmark of Proteus’ tomb to the elaborate fake burial ceremony at the play’s conclusion, Euripides conceives Egypt as an ideal stand-in for the land of the dead.113 The most prominent evidence of Egypt’s connection with the

Underworld occurs during the second choral ode as the chorus recounts the story of Demeter’s frantic search for her daughter, Persephone. The ode itself has proven confusing to previous scholars, who have condemned the ode’s irrelevance to the plot and its divergence from typical

110 Allan 2008, 147. 111 Vasunia 2001, 77. 112 In another allusion to the Odyssey, Euripides likens Helen’s encounter with this foreign governance to Odysseus’ encounters with strange and mythical foreign rulers. Odysseus rejects these lands and their rulers in favor for his throne in Ithaca, and Helen will likewise reject this tyranny for Sparta. 113 See Vausnia 2001, 65 for further examples of the multiple underworld associations in Helen.

67 poetic form.114 However, the ode functions best when a parallel is drawn between Helen and

Persephone’s respective abductions to the Underworld (1301-19):

Χορός Ὀρεία ποτὲ δροµάδι κώ- λῳ µάτηρ θεῶν ἐσύθη ἀν᾽ ὑλάεντα νάπη ποτάµιόν τε χεῦµ᾽ ὑδάτων βαρύβροµόν τε κῦµ᾽ ἅλιον πόθῳ τᾶς ἀποιχοµένας ἀρρήτου κούρας. κρόταλα δὲ βρόµια διαπρύσιον ἱέντα κέλαδον ἀνεβόα, θηρῶν ὅτε ζυγίους ζευξάσᾳ θεᾷ σατίνας τὰν ἁρπασθεῖσαν κυκλίων χορῶν ἔξω παρθενίων µετὰ κούραν, ἀελλόποδες, ἃ µὲν τόξοις Ἄρτεµις, ἃ δ᾽ ἔγχει Γοργῶπις πάνοπλος, συνείποντο. Ζεὺς δ᾽ ἑδράνων αὐγάζων ἐξ οὐρανίων ἄλλαν µοῖραν ἔκραινε.

Chorus At some time on speeding foot the mountain mother of the gods [Demeter] rushed to the wooded groves and the flowing river waters and the deep-roaring wave of the sea with yearning for her vanished daughter whose name may not be spoken. And the roaring cymbals, raising a piercing din, cried out, when the goddess yoked her chariot to a team of wild beasts after the girl was snatched away from the chorus circle of maidens, the storm-footed one followed,

114 See Whitman 1974, 293 and Dale 1967, 1301-68 for their takes on the ode’s apparent insignificance.

68 first Artemis with her bows, then the grim-eyed, full-armored goddess with her spear. But Zeus, discerning from his heavenly throne, brought forth another destiny.

Demeter’s frantic emotions dominate the entire ode. Euripides captures Demeter’s emotional turmoil through the swift pace of the narrative and the fast movements of the goddesses in response to Persephone’s abduction.115 This event causes a notable shift in the natural order of the world, as seen through the roaring of the natural landscape and the eventual decay of the earth’s vegetation. Parts of these elements can also be extended to Helen’s own abduction to

Egypt by Hermes. Just as a league of goddesses assemble to find Persephone, a vast Greek armada gathers to retrieve Helen from Troy. In particular, Euripides’ use of the word πόθῳ,

(“desire,” 1306) and his description of Demeter’s crossing of the land and sea echo the desirous effect of Helen and the lengths the Greeks are willing to go to reclaim her. Further, the consequential loss of the earth’s vegetation reflects the deaths of the Greek soldiers who fought on Helen’s behalf. Just as Persephone’s abduction unsettles the natural world, Paris’ seizure of

Helen shifts the power dynamics in the ancient world as Troy collapses altogether. Through this mythical allusion, Euripides denotes the resulting chaos that comes with imperialist desire.

Euripides also draws similarities between Persephone and Helen through their shared identities as virginal figures. While Helen is not necessarily a virgin, as she has already consummated her marriage to Menelaus before her abduction, the play emphasizes her chastity through the integration of the traditional partheneion, or “maiden song,” into the play’s language and themes.116 In addition, Helen and Persephone are abducted under strikingly similar

115 Allan 2008, 299. 116 Murnaghan 2001, 164-5.

69 circumstances, as a god snatches both “maidens” and places them in a mysterious, timeless locale: Egypt and the Underworld, respectively. Further, both Helen and Persephone become separated from the χορῶν παρθενίων (“chorus of maidens,” 1313). This detail is especially significant for the trajectory of Helen’s narrative since her journey ends with her eventual reintegration into the Spartan choral circle. In a way, Helen’s character functions as a “dislocated chorus leader,” and the crux of her character development rests upon her movement from a place of vulnerable isolation to the acceptance of the Spartan chorus.117

In spite of Helen’s positive character arc, this reincarnation occurs within a fantasy world.

When Helen and Menelaus escape back into reality, “Helen’s purity, innocence, [and] resilience prove to not be enough.”118 As recounted in the Messenger’s final speech, a miniature naval battle plays out on the Nile River. Menelaus experiences a revival of his own as he abandons his rags for his customary sword and armor, and engages in the slaughter of the noticeably ill- equipped Egyptian forces (1591-1618). Helen does not recoil from this bloodshed; in fact, she actively goads Menelaus on: ποῦ τὸ Τρωïκὸν κλέος; / δείξατε πρὸς ἄνδρας βαρβάρους (“Where is the Trojan glory? Show it to the barbarian men,” 1603-04). Helen’s behavior in this episode stands in stark contrast to her previously pacifistic actions in the play, such as when she mourned over the countless deaths in the Trojan War and her opposition to murdering Theoclymenus.

Further, these slaughtered Egyptians took no part in Helen’s suffering, but rather Helen coexisted with the Egyptians for 17 years. The description of Helen cheering at the fall of the Egyptians mirrors the Homeric Helen’s retelling of the sack of Troy in the Odyssey.119 In both cases, Helen

117 Ibid. 118 Segal 1971, 608. 119 See Pg. 20-21 of this thesis for my analysis of Helen’s account of her role in the fall of Troy.

70 delights in the despair of her hosts. She displays a flagrant disregard for the standards of a guest- host relationship, thus revealing yet another way in which Helen’s eros has ruptured a pre-set standard.

Not only does Euripides invoke previous iterations of Helen’s character, this display of violence also echoes Odysseus’ brutal slaughter of the suitors upon his return to Ithaca (Od. 22).

Similar to Odysseus, Helen had renounced the war culture of the Trojan War in favor of familial values. Both Odysseus’ return to Ithaca and Helen’s return to Sparta are intended to represent the return to stability and the rejection of the chaos of war. And yet, Odysseus cannot escape the violence of Troy, and neither can Helen. Euripides suggests the violence of war has tainted the once virtuous Helen. Ultimately, Euripides fails to resolve how these newfound characteristics of haughtiness and cruelty will reconcile with the Edenic vision of Sparta painted by the chorus.

While the murder of the Egyptians does not ring as hollow as Menelaus’ slaughter of the

Egyptian youths in the Histories, a move which was also motivated by Menelaus’ own ego and aggression, this action undoubtedly violates the customs of hospitality.120 In addition, much like the streams of Egyptian blood that run through the once chaste waters of the Nile, this moment equally taints Helen’s character. In Helen’s desire to return home, the madness of eros mixed with Menelaus’ militaristic violence ultimately prove detrimental to her purity. Through this shift, Euripides contemplates the power of eros to bend roles as Helen transforms from a pure pacifist to an embodiment of the eidolon’s imperialistic eros.

120 Hsu 2018, 111.

71 Genre Play in Helen

The final piece of the puzzle involves the shifting of genres throughout the play. From the onset it should be established that Helen should not, and arguably cannot, be confined to one genre, such as tragedy or comedy. The play encapsulates three different genres in each of its three acts: tragedy (1-384), comedy (385-1106), and a choral dance that interweaves elements of

Plato’s genre of “New Music” (1107-1692). Instead of viewing these generic shifts as an indicator of the play’s poor quality, it is worth considering how Euripides’ manipulation of genre reflects the turmoil and confusion within Athens at the moment of the play’s performance (412

BCE).

Tragedy as a genre was a rapidly developing artistic form, as seen in the movement from the grand choral dialogues of Aeschylus’ age to the subtle and emotional solo performances of the late Euripidean era.121 This new movement towards a pronounced display of emotion and pathos mirrors changing trends in musical performance as New Music changed metrical patterns and allowed for a freer style of performance.122 For an Athenian audience that had become accustomed to seeing traditional tragic conventions at least twice a year, these new innovations would have undoubtedly aroused surprise and shock.123

However, these generic shifts offer much more than a reflection on dramatic and artistic developments. As I continue to show in future chapters, these shifts are reflective of a changing

Athenian society, in terms of both politics and culture. It would be an oversight to not evaluate how Euripides’ manipulation of these traditional tropes was indicative of a larger political shift,

121 Allan 2008, 71. 122 Ibid, 41. 123 Arnott 1973, 50.

72 especially given the debut of Helen following the failure of the Sicilian Expedition. If Dionysian performance involves the dissolution of boundaries, through this blend of genres, Euripides underscores the disbandment of stability within the Athenian polis as incited by the adoption of

Alcibiades’ imperialist ideology.124

Euripides starts Helen in the genre of tragedy, which I suggest colors the text from

Helen’s opening monologue to Menelaus’ entrance at line 385. In Helen’s opening monologue,

Euripides’ presentation of an isolated and vulnerable Helen fits the definition of a tragic character. The sexual advances of Theoclymenus also surface as a direct threat to Helen’s valued chastity as he takes on the role of the “demonic and lustful foreigner.”125 Helen also struggles emotionally as she faces this threat alone, without the support of the choral group of Spartan handmaidens. Typically in tragedy, the chorus initially supports the protagonist, but then a gap slowly develops between the two bodies due to the protagonist’s consequential actions. Here, the reverse occurs. Helen strengthens her bond with the chorus as the play progresses, and she eventually becomes the choral leader. In this way, the play functions as a reverse tragedy. While generic tragic elements form the crux of the play’s opening act, Helen’s fear and desperation gradually dissipate as the plot progresses and steps beyond the tragic genre.

Further, tragedy offered a space for playwrights to deliver commentary on political matters within the Athenian polis by setting their plays outside of Athens, as seen in Euripides’ choice to set Helen in Egypt. For example, tragic playwrights often interrogated the “excessive power of Eros and his mistress Aphrodite,” along with the impact of eros upon the civic body.126

124 Tarnopolsky 2014, 2. 125 Vausina 2001, 63. 126 Calame 1999, 146.

73 While Helen does not experience this overwhelming madness of eros firsthand, unlike other women of tragedy, she contemplates the destructive desire of the eidolon in the tragic section of the play.127 Through the empty vanity of the eidolon, Euripides critiques the madness of imperialist desire and the devastating consequences that surface by pursuing it, as seen in

Helen’s descriptions of the blood-filled rivers of Troy and the loss of Helen’s identity. By integrating tragic conventions, Euripides could consider the “extremes of madness” and the domino effect of suffering that an unbound eros catalyzes.128 Specifically, Euripides could address the impact of the imperialist desire that pervaded Athens at the time of the play’s performance.

The play transcends the genre of tragedy when Menelaus appears on stage at line 385, ushering in the second, comedic act of the play. The comic conventions of Helen are not necessarily the same as the crude humor that dominates Aristophanes’ comedies. Instead, the inherent humor of the play lies in the disparities between Helen and Menelaus as they manifest as pure opposites of the traditional portrayals of their characters. Euripides draws out the comedic elements of their relationship through the increased use of line-for-line dialogue, such as in the stichomythia of the recognition scene and the climatic reunion duet. As seen in the recognition scene, Euripides emphasizes the ridiculousness of Menelaus’ character through his confused dialogue, which the playwright then counters with Helen’s rational thinking. This contrast allows Euripides to critique the blindness of imperialist desire, and simultaneously showcase the superiority of Helen’s intellect and virtue in the absence of eros.

127 For such examples of the eros-stricken women of tragedy, consult Hippolytus’ Phaedra and the mad frenzy of Agave. 128 Calame 1999, 149.

74 A comparison of the recognition scenes in acts one and two best distinguishes the generic shift from tragedy to comedy. At the beginning of the play, Helen meets Teucer, the brother of

Ajax, on the shores of Egypt. Teucer recoils at Helen, and voices his desire to kill her. This reunion scene highlights the destructive elements of the eidolon and the devastating results of the

Trojan War, thus aligning with traditional tragic conventions. In contrast, the recognition scene of the second act is full of comedy. Instead of focusing on the trouble surrounding Helen’s eidolon, this scene focuses on whether Menelaus can overcome his initial confusion between the real and the false Helen. Although this section of the play lacks the obscenity of Aristophanes’ comedies,

Euripides still incorporates a key component of the comedic genre: a satirization and critique of civic life.129 Through the ridiculous portrayal of Menelaus, compounded by the castrating effect of his own imperialist desire, Euripides forces his audience to question the validity of their own desires.

Once Helen and Menelaus begin to execute their escape plan, the play enters its final genre: the choral dance. Strangely enough, the first choral ode does not begin until line 1108.

Before this point in the play, the Chorus takes a backseat to the action of the play. As Helen positions herself as the choregos and begins to reintegrate herself into the Spartan community, the chorus takes on a larger role with three extensive, and equally perplexing, choral odes. In contrast to other tragedies, in which the choral odes served as breaks between scenes, these choral odes all take place in close succession to each other and all comment on significant parts of the plot, as seen in my analyses of the second and third odes.130 Aside from the placement of the odes, Euripides integration of New Music elements intensifies the ingenuity of the third act.

129 Ibid, 134. 130 Allan 2008, 261.

75 The Helen is not a play meant to be solely read or heard. In fact, the play necessitates a full staging in order for the audience to appreciate the innovative actions taking place on stage.

Some of these elements surface in musical performance, as seen through the increased presence of drawn out single syllables over several notes.131 Such innovation could also be found in the choreography of these dances. For example, in the final choral ode as Helen completes her journey to Sparta, the chorus mirrors the flight pattern of migratory birds by creating a “v” out of the two customary chorus lines.132 This innovative choreography develops a new method of storytelling that does not depend solely on auditory storytelling, but on movement and form, as well. There is a looseness and lack of rigidity to these dances. In a way, this choral performance acts out the unbound quality of eros. As eros begins to taint the once virtuous Helen, the chorus integrates the presence of an unrestrained eros into their performance.

Amidst this confusion and subversion of genre, Theonoe’s character offers a sense of stability. While most of the characters in the play manifest as unstable forces, Theonoe represents divine will and judgement. Theonoe displays this divine justice in her response to Helen and

Menelaus’ request to aid them in their escape (1002-04):

ἔνεστι δ’ ἱερὸν τῆς δίκης ἐµοὶ µέγα ἐν τῆι φύσει· καὶ τοῦτο Νηρέως πάρα ἔχουσα σώιζειν, Μενέλεως, πειράσοµαι.

But there is a great shrine of justice in my soul; and bearing this from Nereus I will attempt to save it, Menelaus.

Unlike Helen and Menelaus, whose actions are motivated by their own selfish ends, Theonoe makes decisions based on what is just. By mentioning Nereus, a deity traditionally associated

131 Ibid, 41. 132 Steiner 2020, 34.

76 with justice, Euripides further clarifies Theonoe’s loyalty to the perseverance of her family’s just reputation and her loyalty to the wishes of the gods.133 There is no hint of desire within

Theonoe’s character. In contrast to Menelaus’ cave of luxurious goods, including the desirous eidolon, Theonoe contends she has a “great shrine of justice / in [her] soul” (1003-04). Through this distinction, Euripides underscores the stability and peace that comes with the pursuit of justice and reason, in opposition to Menelaus’ pursuit of glory.

Although Theonoe agrees to keep Menelaus’ identity a secret, thus engaging in the couple’s deceptive plot, she bases her decision in accordance with justice and piety rather than on any personal investment in the matter. While Helen’s pious identity becomes muddled and uncertain by the end of the play, Theonoe’s character remains pure and consistent. Theonoe is the one character in the play who refuses to be tainted by eros in all of its forms.

Much like the chorus, Euripides scatters Theonoe’s direct involvement in the action of the play. This choice places a higher value on every mention and appearance of her character, as her appearance seems to mark the transition from one genre to the next. As Helen decides to gain

Theonoe’s help beginning at line 316, the play transitions from tragedy to comedy following the entrance of Menelaus. Next, when Theonoe decides to help Helen and Menelaus at line 875, the play shifts into the choral dance. Finally, the play ends with the certainty of Theonoe’s safety from her brother’s increased aggression at line 1624. As the only character who consistently practices self-control and moderation, Euripides depicts Theonoe as the sole stabilizing element amidst the chaos. Ultimately, Theonoe manifests as the axis on which Helen spins.

133 Allan 2008, 254.

77 Conclusions

I conducted my study of Helen through a historical lens as I studied how the play interrogated the consequences of imperialist desire. Through the ethereal and unobtainable nature of Helen’s eidolon, I determined Euripides intended to address the futility of the naval imperialism that urged Athens to launch the Sicilian Expedition. In contrast, through the characterization of a chaste and virtuous Helen, Euripides seemed to advocate for a return to these traits. Further, by placing the purity and level-headedness of Helen in direct opposition to the vanity of Menelaus, Euripides comments upon the blindness and passivity that comes with imperialistic desire. However, Euripides leaves his audience in a tenuous position. In the end,

Euripides suggests even Helen’s purity can still be tainted by the mere presence of imperialistic eros, as displayed in the miniature naval battle on the Nile River.

After my analysis of Helen’s character, I evaluated the significance of the play’s Egyptian setting. Euripides draws from Herodotus’ vision of a wondrous Egyptian landscape, and accentuates the pure fantasy of this land. As a result, Egypt manifests as a place just as desirable as Helen’s eidolon. Part of Egypt’s desirability stems from the pureness of the realm. This is a place where even the chaotic power of Helen’s eros can be tempered. However, akin to the unstable nature Helen’s character, the intrusion of warfare and the reincarnation of Menelaus’ militaristic behavior unsettles the peaceful balance within Egypt.

I concluded this chapter by considering how Euripides intertwined the generic conventions of tragedy, comedy and choral dance throughout the play. I found that each of these genres encapsulated a different component of imperialistic eros. Tragedy deals with the aftermath of conquest, comedy interrogates the characteristics of an individual inflicted with

78 imperialistic desire, and choral performance gives a visualization to the unbound nature of eros.

As a result of these intertwined genres, Euripides captures the instability of the Athenian polis following the birth of Alcibiades’ expansionist foreign policy.

Nevertheless Euripides provides a point of stability through the character of Theonoe. As a result of Theonoe’s practice of divine justice and her rejection of all impure desire, she avoids the tragic downfall of the rest of Helen’s cast. And yet, Theonoe is a fictional priestess living in the fantasy world of Egypt. As a result, Euripides urges the audience to question whether such traits can ever exist within the real world of the polis. Or is political stability a lost cause in the catastrophic aftermath of the Sicilian Expedition?

79 Chapter 3: Political Eroticism in Book 6 of The History of the Peloponnesian War

From this point forward, I move away from myth and tragedy to explore how authors expressed 5th century erotics in the genres of history and philosophy as I shift my focus towards

Alcibiades. In the following two chapters, I consider how Alcibiades manifests as an erotic and politically subversive figure in both Book 6 of the History of the Peloponnesian War and Plato’s

Symposium. In particular, I focus on the ways in which his tendency to evade social and generic classification parallels the themes my analysis of Helen brought to the surface, including

Athenian imperialism and a shifting Athenian literary imagination.

Few Athenian figures have received as much attention, or inspired as much controversy, as Alcibiades. Images of Alcibiades’ flamboyance and the dangerous ramifications of his ambition haunt much of Ancient Greek literature, from the historical accounts of Thucydides and

Plutarch to the slapstick comedies of Aristophanes and the later tragedies of Sophocles and

Euripides.134 Evidently, Alcibiades cannot be confined to one literary genre. One of Alcibiades’ most defining traits is his beauty. Plutarch describes his beauty as one of the few consistent aspects of Alcibiades’ identity: “It is not, perhaps, material to say anything of the beauty of

Alcibiades, only that it bloomed with him in all the ages of his life, in his infancy, in his youth, and in his manhood…” (Vit. Alc. 1.3, trans. Fuller). While Alcibiades’ beauty remains consistent, his political loyalties change like the tide. When Alcibiades arrives in Sparta following his defection from the Athenian armada, Plutarch describes the ease with which Alcibiades conforms to Spartan customs (Vit. Alc. 23.3). Plutarch insists Alcibiades remains “the same woman

134 Vickers 2014, 2: Arguably, Alcibiades’ presence is most noticeable in the comedic genre. Vickers suggests shades of Alcibiades, among other Athenian political figures, such as Pericles, can also be seen in tragedy.

80 still” (Vit. Alc. 23.6). Here, Plutarch draws a parallel between Alcibiades and Helen. Plutarch pulled the phrase “the same woman still” from the Euripides’ play Orestes, in which Helen cuts her beautiful locks of hair. However, her changed appearance has little impact upon her beauty and its associative destructiveness, which reflects the persistence of Alcibiades’ own beauty within Sparta.135 By linking the beauty of Alcibiades and Helen, Plutarch suggests Alcibiades’ beauty embodies the same desirous, yet chaotic, eros of Helen.

Furthermore, the desirous effect of both figures does not solely lie in their outward appearance, but also in the power of their individual voices. In concert with his infamous lisp,

Alcibiades possessed an innate talent for persuasion; an ability assuredly sharpened by his association with Socrates. The beauty of Alcibiades’ appearance also translated into his dialect, as Plutarch notes that there was a gracefulness to his way of speech (Vit. Alc. 1.4). In particular, the effect of Alcibiades’ voice, specifically the passion his words evoke, harks back to Helen’s adoption of the voices of all the Greek wives in Book 4 of the Odyssey. The speech of both figures not only embodies desire, but also conjures a mind-numbing eros within the listener.

This powerful combination of extravagance, beauty and persuasion manifests most fully in the political aspirations and actions of Alcibiades, which aligns with Thucydides’ erotic portrait of the Athenian general in Book 6 of his History. Throughout Book 6, Thucydides poses the following question: how can a figure with as little self-restraint and regard for conventionality as Alcibiades coexist with Athenian democratic ideals?136 The answer is simple: he cannot. From the moment Alcibiades catalyzes the image of an empire within the Athenian

135 This plot point in Orestes stands in sharp contrast to Euripides’ Helen, in which her changed appearance points to a significant shift in her character. However, as covered in Chapter 2, Euripides still leaves the truth behind Helen’s transformation up for speculation. 136 Forde 1989, 7.

81 polis, he blurs the lines between democracy and tyranny, while simultaneously creating an eros between himself and the polis that cannot be defined by a “generally acceptable model of sexuality.”137 Perhaps, Aristophanes best captures this complex, and strangely symbiotic, relationship between Alcibiades and Athens in the Frogs: ποθεῖ µέν, ἐχθαίρει δέ, βούλεται δ᾽

ἔχειν: (“[Athens] longs for him, but she hates him, and yet, she wishes to have him,” Ran. 1425).

Just as Alcibiades’ identity is built around contradictions, the very love Athens holds for him proves to be equally problematic.

In this chapter, I explore the breakdown of boundaries that Alcibiades incites in Book 6

— both the political and the literary. My analysis begins with Thucydides’ presentation of the

Athenian rationale behind the Sicilian Expedition. I examine how some of the History’s defining themes, such as imperialistic desire and the illusion of power, reach a heightening crescendo in the speeches of Nicias and Alcibiades and Thucydides’ elaborate descriptions of Athenian opulence.138 In addition, I consider how Thucydides’ rhetorical choices shift in order to accommodate not only these emerging themes, but the passionate characterization of Alcibiades.

This chapter concludes with an analysis of Thucydides’ so-called tyrannicide “digression,” in which Thucydides recounts the pederastic relationship between the tyrants Harmodius and

Aristogeiton before the rise of Athenian democracy.139 I argue Thucydides’ inclusion of the tyrannicide in Book 6 is an intentional choice, one which underscores the tyrannical fears

Alcibiades cast upon the Athenian polis.

137 Whol 1999, 355. 138 Kallet 2001, 21: Many of the aforementioned thematic elements are central to Thucydides’ treatment of the Peloponnesian War, such as in Pericles’ Funeral Oration (2.40) and the Melian Dialogue. However, she agrees these themes take full form with the onset of the Sicilian Expedition. 139 Dover 1965, 41.

82 A Hint of Poetic Expression in the Sicilian Archaeology

Although the previous literary studies of this thesis have centered upon epic poetry and tragedy, I briefly addressed the genre of history in my Chapter 1 analysis of Herodotus’

Histories. However, while performance and romanticism define the writings of Herodotus,

Thucydides’ conception of historical writing is a completely different animal.140 For a substantial portion of his History, Thucydides holds a commitment to truthfulness, relaying the events of the

Peloponnesian War with unflinching accuracy and little poetic adornment.141 As he states in his introduction, the goal of Thucydides’ composition is not necessarily to entertain his audience with heightened retellings of the Peloponnesian War. Thucydides strives to reveal patterns of human nature and create a “possession for all time” (Thuc. 1.22).

As a result, Thucydides’ rhetoric creates a challenging literary landscape for his readers.

Not only are his sentences dense and the grammatical constructions complex, but Thucydides also demands his ideal reader to view his work with an engaged, critical lens.142 An astute reader of Thucydides would note shifts in the stylistic elements of the narrative and when the historian flips the preset rules of his rhetorical strategy. These complex stylistic variances occur in the latter half of the History, and become increasingly apparent with the onset of the Sicilian

Expedition in Book 6.

140 Goldhill 2002, 32. 141 Finley 1972, 10. 142 Goldhill 2002, 36-7.

83 Scholars have debated at length the consistency of the final four books in the History, with books 5 and 8 emerging as the most hotly contested of the four.143 However, the stylistic variances in Book 6 prove to be thematically significant in light of the introduction of Alcibiades and the Sicilian Expedition. For Thucydides, this change in tone is evidence of his own apprehension at the chaos Alcibiades wrought upon Athens.

Many have pointed to 5.26 as Thucydides’ “Second Introduction,” yet the opening chapters of Book 6 emerge as equally viable contenders for this title.144 Not only does Book 6 usher in a new period of the Peloponnesian War, but there are also structural parallels between

Books 1 and 6.145 For example, each book begins with an “archaeology” of its central locale, and then proceeds to a debate that could turn the tide of the war, as seen in the Corcyraean and

Sicilian debates. Yet, as Thucydides develops the Athenians’ growing imperialist desire, the historian departs from his canonically rigid prose in favor of an elevated style that harks back to the literature of Aeschylus and Pindar.146

While Thucydides eases the reader into the background of the Peloponnesian War in

Book 1, the opposite occurs in Book 6. Thucydides lays out the book’s primary conflict in the

143 See Hornblower 2008, 1-4 for the history of scholarship revolving around the “problem books” of Thucydides’ History. Hornblower believes the issues of Book 5 stand out more prominently than those in Book 8. On the other hand, the Sicilian Expedition books (6 and 7) prove to be nearly perfect, aside from some minute issues, such as the tyrant digression at 6.54. 144 Hunter 1977, 278: The reasoning behind this placement of the second introduction lies in Thucydides’ reintroduction of himself and his intentions. In addition, he recounts the past 27 years of the war. 145 See Rawlings 1981, 62-67 for an in-depth analysis of the remarkable parallels between Book 1 and Book 6, in terms of their function as introductions, the latter of which he refers to as a “second archaeology.” 146 Hornblower 2008, 12.

84 opening lines, which immediately thrusts the reader head-first into the risky venture of the

Sicilian Expedition (6.1.1):147

τοῦ δ᾽ αὐτοῦ χειµῶνος Ἀθηναῖοι ἐβούλοντο αὖθις µείζονι παρασκευῇ τῆς µετὰ Λάχητος καὶ Εὐρυµέδοντος ἐπὶ Σικελίαν πλεύσαντες καταστρέψασθαι, εἰ δύναιντο. ἄπειροι οἱ πολλοὶ ὄντες τοῦ µεγέθους τῆς νήσου καὶ τῶν ἐνοικούντων τοῦ πλήθους καὶ Ἑλλήνων καὶ βαρβάρων, καὶ ὅτι οὐ πολλῷ τινὶ ὑποδεέστερον πόλεµον ἀνῃροῦντο ἢ τὸν πρὸς Πελοποννησίους.

But during the winter the Athenians desired to sail again with more preparation than under Laches and Eurymedon to conquer the island of Sicily, if they could. Many of the Athenians were ignorant of the great size of the island and the number of people dwelling there, both Hellenic and barbarians, and that they were undertaking a war almost as great as that against the Peloponnesians.

One of the first words of Book 6 is ἐβούλοντο (“they desired,” 6.1.1), which is the first of many instances in which Thucydides utilizes βούλοµαι to describe the desires of the Athenian polis, and by extension, the desires of Alcibiades. Traditionally, βούλοµαι “is a marked term for an active discourse in Athenian democracy.”148 The word also relates to discussions that took place within the public sphere of law, thus involving the collective participation of the citizenry.149 For example, in Lysias 1, “On the Murder of Eratosthenes,” the speaker Euphiletos emphasizes the democratic nature of the Athenian court. Although Euphietos brings a personal matter into the court, he leaves the judgment to the collective mind of the jury as he asserts: ἅπαντας ὑµᾶς

νοµίζω τὴν αὐτὴν διάνοιαν ἔχειν (“I believe that all of you hold the same mind,” Lys. 1.3). This collective decision stands in sharp contrast to the individual and aristocratic desire that

Alcibiades projects upon the Athenian Assembly.

147 In each of this chapter’s translations, certain words are bolded. Any bolded words indicate erotic, poetic, or imperialistic language. All translations, unless otherwise noted, are my own. I was aided in my translation process by the following commentaries: Dover 1965, Hornblower 2008, and Shelmerdine 1989. 148 Gilhuly 2009, 41. 149 Ibid, 40.

85 In what follows, I suggest Thucydides’ language of will and desire grows ever more erotic. The book begins with βούλοµαι at 6.1, but Thucydides rapidly moves towards the attack of eros upon the polis at 6.24. Thus, through this shift in meaning, Thucydides moves from the evocation of civic discourse to an allusion to Alcibiades’ private sphere of wealth. By doing so,

Thucydides proposes Alcibiades has tainted the civic sphere with his aristocratic aspirations and individual desires.

This introduction also builds upon the history of the Athenian desire to conquer Sicily.

The imperfect form ἐβούλοντο indicates the wish to sail to Sicily is not restricted to one occasion, but rather manifests as a consistent source of desire for the Athenians. Thucydides further emphasizes the repetitiveness of this desire by placing αὖθις (“again,” 6.1.1) immediately after ἐβούλοντο. Those familiar with the History would know the dream of seizing Sicily had long festered in the minds of Athenians.150 It seemed the longer the war persisted, the desire for

Sicily intensified. Both the longing for Sicily and the size of such an expedition, as suggested by

µείζονι (“greater,” 6.1.1), loomed over the Athenian mind. Thucydides characterizes this desire as boundless; it keeps growing with each passing year. In this way, the imperialistic desire of

Athens is akin to eros itself. Once ignited, this desire cannot be contained.

Just as quickly as he builds up the excitement surrounding the expedition, Thucydides undercuts the moment with the potential optative δύναιντο (“if they could,” 6.1.1). The uncertainty behind this word creates a foreboding atmosphere around the launch of the expedition. Thucydides builds this apprehension by describing the Athenians’ ignorance

150 Forde 1989, 15; See Thuc. 1.44.3, 1.36.2, 3.86.4, 3.114.4, and 4.2.2 for previous mentions of Sicily and the smaller expeditions under Laches and Eurymedon.

86 regarding the customs and history of Sicily.151 The historian raises a greater question concerning why the Athenians desired this island so desperately. This question circles back to the apprehensive tone behind the word δύναιντο. The uncertainty of this word has little to do with the actual outcome of the expedition. Most readers would likely know the fateful result of the expedition. Instead, Thucydides forces his reader to reconsider the inherent problems behind the

Athenian desire to conquer Sicily, and, in particular, the problems of Athenian expansion.

Shortly afterwards, Thucydides dives into the archaeology of Sicily. In contrast to the sharp accuracy of Thucydides’ archaeology of Athens in Book 1, Thucydides leaves many questions unanswered about the history of Sicily in Book 6. In Book 6, Thucydides diverges from his initial insistence to avoid mythology and skepticism in his recordings. For example,

Thucydides contends the Cyclopes and the Laestrygones were among the first inhabitants of

Sicily (6.2.1).152 This sudden insertion of mythology contributes to Thucydides’ characterization of Sicily as a land that is both foreign and mystical — a familiar literary trope which harks back to Herodotus and Euripides’ constructions of Egypt, as discussed in Chapters 1 and 2.

Thucydides’ emphasis on the foreignness and mysticism of Sicily underscores the lack of Greek intervention in the landscape; thus, conjuring Sicily as a space apt for colonization.153

Thucydides expands upon this element of colonization in his description of the Trojan colonization of Sicily following the events of the Iliad. The presence of Trojan heritage in Sicily

151 Smith 2004, 39-40: Based on Thucydides’ account of the first Sicilian Expedition in Book 3, Smith finds it unlikely that the Athenians knew next to nothing about Sicily. This first expedition brought thousands of Athenians to Sicily who would have then imparted knowledge of the country and its history to their counterparts back in Greece. 152 See Od.9 and Od.10 for the epic portrayals of these figures, which likely laid the foundation for Thucydides’ inclusion of them in the History. 153 See Dougherty 1993, 51-54 on the imagery associated with a pre-colonized land, and specifically, her comparison of the Sicilian Expedition to a colonizing mission.

87 not only builds upon this theme of mysticism, but also strengthens the idea that, in the eyes of the

Athenians, Sicily is a new Troy that holds something desirous and must be taken by force.154 By focusing upon the history of colonization in Sicily, Thucydides simultaneously characterizes the island as a place vulnerable to outside invaders.155 This angle consequently paints Athens as yet another ruling power with the intent of subsuming Sicily, which likely plays into Athens’ fatal underestimation of the Sicilian forces. If Sicily had been conquered in the past, surely a power as great as Athens could do it again.

Amongst these mythological footnotes, there is also an uncharacteristic precariousness to

Thucydides’ approach, as words such as λέγονται (“they are said,” 6.2.1) and φαίνονται (“they seem,” 6.2.2) pervade the text.156 These words suggest Thucydides’ evaluation relies primarily on hearsay and rumors. The history of Sicily proves beyond Thucydides’ limited knowledge, and he goes as far as to recommend that his reader “must be content with what the poets say” (6.2.2, trans. Warner). Although Thucydides far from endorses these myths, his mere insertion of them ruptures a pre-set standard; in this case, Thucydides’ own rules of historiography.

Thucydides concludes his archaeology of Sicily with the beginning of Gelon the Tyrant’s reign in Sicily (6.4.2). This portion of the archaeology is home to the first of many Herodotean echoes in Book 6.157 The characteristic wonder of Herodotus’ prose neatly dovetails with the more poetic elements of Thucydides’ rhetoric as he continues to construct Sicily as a mythic space. Further, inserting the trope of the Herodotean tyrant intensifies the characterization of

154 See Kallet 2001, 112-115 for further links that bind together the Sicilian Expedition and Troy. Kallet specifically draws upon moments from the climax of Book 7, which will not be addressed in this thesis. 155 Avery 1973, 8-9. 156 Smith 2004, 37. 157 Hornblower 2008, 288.

88 Sicily as a foreign, and even barbaric, power that pales in comparison to the sophistication of

Athenian democracy. However, this is not where Sicily’s history actually ends. Thucydides fails to touch upon the restoration of democracy in Sicily following the reign of several tyrants.158 In sharp contrast to the archaeology of Athens, there is little information about the development of

Sicily’s military power and cultural traditions. Thucydides’ portrait of Sicily lacks realism, mirroring the ways in which the surreal reputations of Helen and Alcibiades lack authenticity.

Thus, Thucydides maintains a veil of mysticism over these elements of Sicilian culture, ultimately keeping his reader’s conception of Sicily in the mythic past.

The opening of Book 6 ends with a reexamination of the Athenian motives to sail for

Sicily. Much like the cacophony of sources that contribute to Thucydides’ Sicilian archaeology, there are many explanations at play, all of which conflict with one another (6.6.1):

οἱ Ἀθηναῖοι στρατεύειν ὥρµηντο, ἐφιέµενοι µὲν τῇ ἀληθεστάτῃ προφάσει τῆς πάσης ἄρξαι, βοηθεῖν δὲ ἅµα εὐπρεπῶς βουλόµενοι τοῖς ἑαυτῶν ξυγγενέσι καὶ τοῖς προσγεγενηµένοις ξυµµάχοις.

The Athenians were eager to wage war; on the one hand they were compelled by the true cause, to rule all of Sicily, but plausibly they also wished to come to the aid of their kin and their previously acquired allies.

Once again, the overriding force of the Athenians’ desire forms the crux of this section, as seen through the utilization of ὥρµηντο (6.6.1). While I have translated ὁρµάω as “to be eager,” the word’s meaning also implies impulsiveness and hastiness.159 This dual-meaning of ὁρµάω characterizes the Sicilian Expedition as a poorly thought out venture, but also suggests the uncontrollability and power of the Athenians’ very own imperialistic desire. Thucydides expands upon both of these points by contrasting the “true cause” of the expedition with its alleged

158 Smith 2004, 36. 159 Hornblower 2008, 299.

89 purpose. This distinction harks back to the foundations of the Trojan War, in which the purpose of retrieving Helen disguises the Greek’s desire for conquest. As for the Sicilian expedition,

Thucydides states the true reason behind the expedition is to rule all of Sicily, thus confirming the presence of the Athenians’ imperialistic eros. Thucydides undercuts this hidden desire by revealing that the supposed reason for the expedition is to help their kin and allies. The disparity between these two reasons acutely displays a shift in the Athenian political mindset. The

Periclean model, which once advocated for the polis to resist expansion, has been compromised by an overwhelming ambition to rule.160

A Man out of his Time: The Speech of Nicias

Following the introduction to Sicily, Thucydides shifts the focus of his chapter to the

Athenian Assembly. By this time, ambassadors from Egesta, a polis in Sicily, had requested military aid against the Syracusans in exchange for silver (6.8.2). The Egestans argued that if the

Syaracusans prevailed in Sicily, the Syracusans would likely ally themselves with the Spartans.

However, some Athenians doubted the truth of the Egestan’s offer and the existence of such funds. This uncertainty pushes forward an underlying question of the History: what is real versus what is illusory?161

The introduction of this deceitfulness heightens the apprehension around the launch of the expedition; an apprehension Nicias capitalizes upon in his argument to remain in Athens.162

The defining feature of Nicias’ rhetoric lies in his reluctance to take command of this foolhardy

160 Forde 1989, 32. 161 Kallet 2001, 27. 162 Nicias was an Athenian general and statesman during the Peloponnesian War. He aligned more so with the anti-expansionist ideology of Pericles, rather than the aggressive foreign policy of his former rival Kleon, and now Alcibiades.

90 mission (6.9).163 In addition, Nicias attempts to channel the political ideology of Pericles by encouraging the Athenians to stay within their city limits and to not be tempted by something out of reach: ‘τὰ γὰρ διὰ πλείστου πάντες ἴσµεν θαυµαζόµενα καὶ τὰ πεῖραν ἥκιστα τῆς δόξης δόντα

(“For all of us know that the thing which is farthest away and the reputation of which has been least put to the test is wondrous,” 6.11.4).164 Here, Nicias specifically addresses the θαύµα

(“wonder,” 6.11.4) that makes Sicily’s seizure remarkably enticing, which harks back to

Thucydides’ initial characterization of the island as a mythical landscape. Just as some Athenians questioned the existence of the Egestan silver, Nicias projects the same doubtfulness upon the wondrous aspects of this expedition in favor of a pragmatic vision. Nevertheless, Nicias is making the wrong speech to the wrong audience. Nicias knows this expedition will be an ill fated venture and he knows that it will likely fail. However, as he proceeds, Nicias faces increased difficulty in curtailing the imperialist eros of the assemblymen.

Nicias diverges from the political decisiveness of his predecessor Pericles in the second half of his speech as he descends into a personal attack against Alcibiades. Although Nicias never directly names his rival, it is clear that he intends to disrupt the amorous facade of Alcibiades with every barbed insult (6.12.2):

‘εἴ τέ τις ἄρχειν ἄσµενος αἱρεθεὶς παραινεῖ ὑµῖν ἐκπλεῖν, τὸ ἑαυτοῦ µόνον σκοπῶν, ἄλλως τε καὶ νεώτερος ὢν ἔτι ἐς τὸ ἄρχειν, ὅπως θαυµασθῇ µὲν ἀπὸ τῆς ἱπποτροφίας, διὰ δὲ πολυτέλειαν καὶ ὠφεληθῇ τι ἐκ τῆς ἀρχῆς, µηδὲ τούτῳ ἐµπαράσχητε τῷ τῆς πόλεως κινδύνῳ ἰδίᾳ ἐλλαµπρύνεσθαι, νο µίσατε δὲ τοὺς τοιούτους τὰ µὲν δηµόσια ἀδικεῖν, τὰ δὲ ἴδια ἀναλοῦν, καὶ τὸ πρᾶγµα µέγα εἶναι καὶ µὴ οἷον νεωτέρῳ βουλεύσασθαί τε καὶ ὀξέως µεταχειρίσαι.’

“But if someone pleased at having been chosen to command urges you to sail forth, he

163 Connor 1974, 162. 164 See Thuc. 2.22 for Pericles’ strategic simmering of the anger and anxiety of the Athenian assembly, during which the differences between Pericles and Nicias’ handling of the assembly are most apparent.

91 is contemplating only himself, and otherwise he is also still too young to command, while he has been admired for his horse breeding, on account of his expenses he also wants to make something out of his position of power. Do not hand this distinction to him at the risk of the city, but remember that such people act unjustly towards the things belonging to the people, while they use up their own possessions. Remember that this is a matter of great importance — it is neither the sort of thing for a younger man to consider nor to keenly take in hand.”

Until this point, a dry and factual tone dominates much of Nicias’ speech, which harks back to the style of previous debates in the History.165 When Nicias focuses on Alcibiades, the emotion behind his rhetoric heightens. Perhaps, this noticeable shift in language aligns with Nicias’ main objective in the latter portion of his speech: to alienate Alcibiades from the rest of the Athenian

Assembly. The first example of this defamation rests in Nicias’ argument that Alcibiades prioritizes the accumulation of his own private wealth over the greater public good.166 Nicias communicates Alcibiades’ private interest through the emphasis on third-person possessive and reflexive nouns, which stand in stark contrast to the collective body of the Athenian Assembly.167

Nicias also disparages Alcibiades’ talent for ἱπποτροφία (“horse breeding,” 6.12.2). Throughout the History, Alcibiades’ passion for horse-breeding, paired with his chariot victories, symbolize his extensive, private wealth and his public fame. Consequently, his success in these spheres manifests as a source of envy among Athenian citizens.168

Nicias’ speech also reveals the older politician’s skepticism towards the youthful vigor of

Alcibiades. Nicias stresses that Alcibiades’ rash behavior, coupled with the scope of the

165 Ober 1998, 108. 166 Kallet 2001, 31. 167 Such examples of these third-person singular nouns include: ἑαυτοῦ, τούτῳ, and ἴδια. 168 Hornblower 2007, 333: “The notion of hippotrophia, horse-breeding or horse-keeping, was an emotive one…It was a word of abuse from early in the history of the Athenian democracy.” In his analysis of this trend, Hornblower draws a specific allusion to Pindar Ode 6, in which the chariot victories at the great Panhellenic games were sources of great envy.

92 expedition, will bring harm to the Athenian polis. Nevertheless, in his attempt to emphasize the danger of Alcibiades, Nicias unwittingly conjures Alcibiades as a second Sicily.169 Throughout this passage, Nicias utilizes the same language from his earlier description of Sicily to characterize Alcibiades, such as the duplication of θαυµασθῇ (“he is admired,” 6.12.2). In addition, Nicias’ attempt to isolate Alcibiades mirrors the emphasis he places on the great distance between Athens and Sicily. The distance and promise of wealth attract the Athenians to

Sicily, both of which are key qualities that make Alcibiades such a desirable figure.170

In the conclusion of his speech, Nicias makes one final appeal to the Athenian Assembly to stay within the bounds of Athens and not sail for Sicily (6.13.1):

‘οὓς ἐγὼ ὁρῶν νῦν ἐνθάδε τῷ αὐτῷ ἀνδρὶ παρακελευστοὺς καθηµένους φοβοῦµαι, καὶ τοῖς πρεσβυτέροις ἀντιπαρακελεύοµαι µὴ καταισχυνθῆναι, εἴ τῴ τις παρακάθηται τῶνδε, ὅπως µὴ δόξει, ἐὰν µὴ ψηφίζηται πολεµεῖν, µαλακὸς εἶναι, µηδ᾽, ὅπερ ἂν αὐτοὶ πάθοιεν, δυσέρωτας εἶναι τῶν ἀπόντων, γνόντας ὅτι ἐπιθυµίᾳ µὲν ἐλάχιστα κατορθοῦνται, προνοίᾳ δὲ πλεῖστα, ἀλλ᾽ ὑπὲρ τῆς πατρίδος ὡς µέγιστον δὴ τῶν πρὶν κίνδυνον ἀναρριπτούσης ἀντιχειροτονεῖν, καὶ ψηφίζεσθαι τοὺς µὲν Σικελιώτας οἷσπερ νῦν ὅροις χρωµένους πρὸς ἡµᾶς, οὐ µεµπτοῖς, τῷ τε Ἰονίῳ κόλπῳ παρὰ γῆν ἤν τις πλέῃ, καὶ τῷ Σικελικῷ διὰ πελάγους, τὰ αὑτῶν νεµοµένους καθ᾽ αὑτοὺς καὶ ξυµφέρεσθαι:’

“Now seeing such men seated here, summoned by that very man, I am fearful, and in turn I appeal to you older men to not be put to shame, if you are someone sitting next to one of these men, lest such a man seems cowardly if he does not vote to wage war, and not, though they might desire it themselves, to conceive a desperate craving for things far off, having known that the smallest things are won by wishing, and the greatest things by foresight. But on behalf of the country, on the grounds that it is running a greater danger than ever before, vote against this measure and vote for the Sicilians to keep the very same boundaries with respect to ours, without complaints, the Ionian sea if someone sails to the coast, and the Sicilian if someone sails across the sea, dealing out their own possessions and settling their own quarrels.”

169 This is similar to the way Helen comes to represent Troy and the wealth that lies within its walls. Essentially, Alcibiades is to Sicily as Helen is to Troy. 170 Nichols 2015, 124.

93 In the above passage, Thucydides presents a prime example of how Alcibiades ignites friction between the young and older Athenians as he replicates the Homeric Helen’s tendency to sow conflict. Nicias stresses the generational gap within the Athenian Assembly, thus creating a palpable tension between these two sects. However, this time, Nicias extends the charge of youthful rashness from Alcibiades to the entire group of young assemblymen. While Nicias illuminates the level-headedness and practicality of his own generation, he suggests the uncontrollability of the younger men by linking them with words indicating passion or desire, such as πάθοιεν (“they might desire,” 6.13.1), δυσέρωτας (“sick with love/desperate craving,”

6.13.1), and ἐπιθυµίᾳ (“with desire,” 6.13.1).171 In particular, δυσέρωτας has a strong poetic history from its appearance in Pindar’s story of Coronis, which revolves around the consequences of desiring the unattainable.172 Further, δυσέρωτας can also describe a desire that is “sick or diseased.”173 This idea of unhinged desires leads Nicias into his final, desperate plea for the Athenians to remain within their own boundaries. The skepticism Nicias displays throughout his speech descends into fear when it comes to the idea of sailing beyond Athens, as seen in the urgency of φοβοῦµαι (“I fear,” 6.13.1). Francis Cornford notes there was still a notion of impiety involved in crossing the far-reaching waters; almost as if crossing these waters ruptured a natural boundary.174 However, the severance of boundaries happens to be Alcibiades’ specialty. In this passage alone, epic and erotic language has compromised Nicias’ once rigid rhetoric. It is no coincidence that Thucydides has Nicias’ speech end with this fear of crossing boundaries. Once Alcibiades takes the stage, he will encourage the Athenians to transgress the

171 See Barry 1993, 141-142 for more on this generational tension within the Athenian Assembly. 172 Cornford 1971, 206. 173 Nichols 2015, 125. 174 Cornford 1971, 204

94 boundaries of the sea and the very boundaries of Athenian democratic discourse. Inevitably, his eros will incite unresolvable instability within the Athenian Assembly.

Eros in the Flesh: The Re-Introduction of Alcibiades

Over the course of the entire narrative, Thucydides has built up to the entrance of

Alcibiades. However, this chapter of the Sicilian narrative is unique for multiple reasons. First,

6.15 functions as a re-introduction to the figure of Alcibiades. This type of re-introduction rarely occurs in the History, and thus denotes the importance of Alcibiades’ character to Thucydides’ account of the Sicilian Expedition.175 Thucydides first introduced the infamous general in Book 5

(5.43.2):

ἦσαν δὲ ἄλλοι τε καὶ Ἀλκιβιάδης ὁ Κλεινίου, ἀνὴρ ἡλικίᾳ µὲν ἔτι τότε ὢν νέος ὡς ἐν ἄλλῃ πόλει, ἀξιώµατι δὲ προγόνων τιµώµενος:

But among the others there was also Alcibiades the son of Clinias, a man still young in age at that time as they would say in any other city, but honored by the worthiness of his lineage.

It’s apparent from these two lines why readers tend to remember the “re-introduction” of

Alcibiades in Book 6 more vividly than the initial introduction of Alcibiades.176 In the first introduction, Thucydides offers his reader a small taste of what is to come, with a slight nod to

Alcibiades’ youthful image and the prominence of his lineage. But in 5.43, Thucydides primarily characterizes Alcibiades as a man defined by his heritage, rather than by his own character or ingenuity. The importance of Alcibiades’ heritage to his identity parallels the ways in which

Helen’s lineage informed her identity: was she divine, was she mortal, or a mix of both? Through this re-introduction, Thucydides offers Alcibiades the same opportunity that Euripides afforded

175 Hornblower 2008, 337. 176 Ibid.

95 to Helen; the opportunity to redefine themselves. But while Euripides’ Helen rejects her lineage,

Thucydides compounds Alcibiades’ heritage with the other traits that construct his unparalleled reputation.

In the second introduction to Alcibiades, Thucydides does not contradict Nicias’ characterization of his political rival. In fact, Thucydides seems to endorse it as he constructs an uneasy image of Alcibiades as both a man and a leader (6.15.2):

ἐνῆγε δὲ προθυµότατα τὴν στρατείαν Ἀλκιβιάδης ὁ Κλεινίου, βουλόµενος τῷ τε Νικίᾳ ἐναντιοῦσθαι, ὢν καὶ ἐς τἆλλα διάφορος τὰ πολιτικὰ καὶ ὅτι αὐτοῦ διαβόλως ἐµνήσθη, καὶ µάλιστα στρατηγῆσαί τε ἐπιθυµῶν καὶ ἐλπίζων Σικελίαν τε δι᾽ αὐτοῦ καὶ Καρχηδόνα λήψεσθαι καὶ τὰ ἴδια ἅµα εὐτυχήσας χρήµασί τε καὶ δόξῃ ὠφελήσειν.

But Alcibiades, the son of Clinias, was the most eager supporter of the expedition, he was wishing to oppose Nicias, who was always his political enemy and had just slandered him. He exceedingly craved to be general and through this command he was hoping to take Sicily and even Carthage. He was also hoping to increase his own wealth both with respect to his money as well as his reputation.

This passage begins with a verbal echo from Book 5 as Thucydides introduces Alcibiades as the son of Clinias. Nevertheless, the parallels between the two passages stop there. While in Book 5

Alcibiades’ identity stems from the reputation of his ancestors, by this point, Alcibiades has cultivated a reputation that goes beyond the achievements of older men. This distinction between

Alcibiades and his predecessors emphasizes Alcibiades’ divergence from the Periclean ideology of the older generation. Most notably, while Pericles argues for limitations to Athenian expansion and for Athenians to love Athens alone, Alcibiades will demand both expansionism and the love of the polis.177

177 Nichols 2015, 143.

96 Thucydides magnifies the epic nature of Alcibiades’ character through the integration of superlative adjectives, such as προθυµότατα (“most eager,” 6.15.2) and µάλιστα (“the most/ exceedingly,” 6.15.2). Thucydides extends these superlatives to describe the expedition itself and

Alcibiades’ passion to take on a leadership role. Just as Alcibiades’ ambitions necessitate the most extreme form of language to describe them, they also push the boundaries of realism, as indicated by Alcibiades’ intent to conquer both Sicily and Carthage.178 It remains unclear whether Alcibiades’ own interests were the predominant motivators behind his support for the expedition, or if such a military venture would profit Athens, as well. Thucydides provides little indication that these ambitions are solely for the benefit of the polis. In the end, it seems to be his political rivalry, his accumulation of wealth, and his right to rule that dominate Alcibiades’ political rationale. Thucydides conveys each of these ambitious goals with the desirous language that has defined much of Book 6, such as ἐλπίζων (“hoping,” 6.15.2) and βουλόµενος

(“wanting,” 6.15.2). In particular, these masculine singular participle forms seem to suggest the expedition is purely for Alcibiades’ own gain, and not for the benefit of the polis.

This assessment of Alcibiades continues as Thucydides echoes Nicias’ critiques of

Alcibiades’ reputation (16.15.3-4):

ὢν γὰρ ἐν ἀξιώµατι ὑπὸ τῶν ἀστῶν, ταῖς ἐπιθυµίαις µείζοσιν ἢ κατὰ τὴν ὑπάρχουσαν οὐσίαν ἐχρῆτο ἔς τε τὰς ἱπποτροφίας καὶ τὰς ἄλλας δαπάνας: ὅπερ καὶ καθεῖλεν ὕστερον τὴν τῶν Ἀθηναίων πόλιν οὐχ ἥκιστα. φοβηθέντες γὰρ αὐτοῦ οἱ πολλοὶ τὸ µέγεθος τῆς τε κατὰ τὸ ἑαυτοῦ σῶµα παρανοµίας ἐς τὴν δίαιταν καὶ τῆς διανοίας ὧν καθ᾽ ἓν ἕκαστον ἐν ὅτῳ γίγνοιτο ἔπρασσεν, ὡς τυραννίδος ἐπιθυµοῦντι πολέµιοι καθέστασαν…

178 Hornblower 2008, 339: It’s unclear how seriously the Athenians contemplated the conquest of Carthage. The success of such a venture would have been unlikely. Additionally, just as Thucydides reports that the Athenians knew little about Sicily, it’s hard to tell if they would have known anymore about Carthage.

97 For he had a great reputation among the citizens, with greater desires than what his current status could take on, as he was both devoted to horse-breeding and other expenses; this subsequently contributed in no small degree to the downfall of the Athenian state. For many feared the greatness of his transgressions with respect to his own body and his way of life and by the thought he would exhibit in each thing he accomplished. They thought he craved a tyranny, so they became his enemies…

Thucydides turns his focus from Alcibiades himself to the public perception of his character. The admiration, and perhaps even the envy, that the Athenian polis holds for Alcibiades is palpable.

Much of this admiration stems from the wealth and extravagance of his character, as seen in the second mention of Alcibiades’ devotion to horse breeding. However, there is also a sense that one of the most captivating aspects of Alcibiades’ character is his desire to achieve and reach for more than has been allocated to him already, as suggested by the phrase ἐπιθυµίαις µείζοσιν (“his greater desires,” 6.15.4). Nevertheless, Thucydides casts Alcibiades’ wealth and his ambitious nature in a negative light and undercuts these feelings of admiration, which ultimately preconditions a tenuous reading of Alcibiades’ subsequent speech.179 Thucydides seems to suggest that Alcibiades’ overarching ambition results in the downfall of the Athenian polis.180 As

Thucydides showcases the negative sides to Alcibiades’ µέγεθος (“greatness,” 6.15.4), the fervor of the Athenian people shifts from veneration to fear. This shift in emotion interrogates both

Alcibiades’ ambition and his own body (τὸ ἑαυτοῦ σῶµα), adding a new element of eroticism to this passion. Much like Helen, Thucydides suggests Alcibiades’ beauty and sexuality contributes to the cultivation of this anxiety within the polis. While some crave the beauty of Helen and

179 Kallet 2001, 36: Kallet views this portion of Thucydides’ description as a negative portrayal of Alcibiades. I lean towards Steven Forde’s reading that Thucydides’ own opinion of Alcibiades is much more ambiguous and nuanced (see Forde, 1989). 180 Hornblower 2008, 340: It is unclear whether Thucydides is referring to the disastrous conclusion to the Sicilian Expedition or the loss of the war itself. See Forde 1989, 77 for a full breakdown of the two sides to this argument.

98 Alcibiades, Thucydides stresses the danger behind such an amorous facade. It is this dangerous combination of Alcibiades’ elaborate private lifestyle and his intense sexuality that results in this accusation of tyranny.181 With this accusation, Thucydides confirms Alcibiades lies well outside the norms of Athenian democratic standards. At this point, Alcibiades could almost be one of the tyrants out of Herodotus’ Histories, for his “extravagance, effeminacy, sexual voracity, and foreign affiliations all chime with the Athenian imagination of the tyrant.”182

It would be reasonable to think that Thucydides has painted a strikingly critical portrait of

Alcibiades: the effeminate, extravagant pseudo-tyrant whose actions will inevitably lead to the downfall of the city. However, right before Alcibiades’ speech commences, Thucydides turns the tables on his readers one final time: αὶ ἄλλοις ἐπιτρέψαντες, οὐ διὰ µακροῦ ἔσφηλαν τὴν πόλιν

(“Thus they entrusted their affairs to other hands, and before long ruined the city,” 6.15.4). In this instance, Thucydides suggests while Alcibiades’ extravagance caused a string of negative effects throughout Athens, he was also the only one who could have saved Athens following the Sicilian

Expedition. The one positive element Thucydides attributes to Alcibiades is his skill at military command; but that was never truly the problem. The true issue of Alcibiades lies with the extravagance of his character and the uncontrollability of his desires. Like the desire Helen embodies, anything done in the name of Alcibiades sparks imperialistic desire.

It is difficult to form a definitive opinion on Thucydides’ evaluation of Alcibiades, which is as ambiguous as Alcibiades’ own characterization. Thucydides’ final words on Alcibiades ultimately question the views of Nicias and whether the extravagance of Alcibiades could ever be

181 Seager 1967, 8. 182 Whol 2002, 137.

99 reconciled with his military genius.183 While this second introduction far from alleviates all blame and criticism from Alcibiades, it inevitably complicates Alcibiades’ character. Much like

Sicily, his true character proves to be “faraway, distant, and unknowable.”184

The Art of Persuasion: The Speech of Alcibiades

Alcibiades’ defense against Nicias has been lauded as the most “remarkable and brilliant” of all of the speeches in the History — and for good reason.185 This speech is a tour de force of persuasion and charisma as it clarifies how Alcibiades has managed to captivate the Athenian polis. Rhetorically, Nicias and Alcibiades’ display different styles of speech. Nicias is humble in his presentation and his speech slowly rises to an anticlimactic crescendo, as he lacks the gravitas to dissuade the desires of the polis. On the other hand, Alcibiades is both frank and deliberative in the expression of his desires and the defense of his reputation, which harks back to Helen’s defense of her own reputation in the Odyssey. In both instances, each figure manifests as a charismatic storyteller in their own right, as supported by Alcibiades’ lyrical rhetoric and the poetic expressionism his character infuses within Thucydides’ prose.

Scholars have questioned whether Alcibiades’ rhetoric was as “offensively boastful” as

Thucydides presented it in the History.186 It is undeniable that the historian captures the boldness and gravitas of Alcibiades (6.16.1):

‘καὶ προσήκει µοι µᾶλλον ἑτέρων, ὦ Ἀθηναῖοι, ἄρχειν（ἀνάγκη γὰρ ἐντεῦθεν ἄρξασθαι, ἐπειδή µου Νικίας καθήψατο), καὶ ἄξιος ἅµα νοµίζω εἶναι.’

“It is proper for me to rule even more than others, O Athenians (for it is necessary to begin here, since Nicias has attacked me), and I believe that I am worthy of this.”

183 Forde 1989, 77. 184 Nichols 2015, 125. 185 Westlake 1968, 225. 186 Cornford 1971, 212.

100 In this bold claim, Alcibiades reveals his self-interest and narcissism. Alcibiades speaks of his right to rule as if it is his birthright, which he communicates both through his lexicon and his syntax, specifically through his repetition of ἄρχειν (6.16.1). Thucydides interweaves two different meanings of ἄρχειν (“to rule” and “to begin”) into the passage. Alcibiades carefully uses this dual meaning to emphasize his primary objective: to not only rule, but to usher in a new age of Athenian power. The idea of a new beginning relates back to Alcibiades’ youth, as well as the changes his generation will enact. Nevertheless, the middle voice of ἄρξασθαι underscores the individual desire of Alcibiades to rule.187 The middle voice suggests Alcibiades is in full control of himself and his actions, contrasting with Athenians, such as Nicias, who struggle to contain Alcibiades.

After this rousing introduction, Alcibiades spins the derogatory claims of Nicias to his advantage. In his speech, Alcibiades does not deny his immense wealth; in fact, he emphasizes it.

Alcibiades claims his extravagant lifestyle is of no substantial consequence to the livelihood of

Athens. To the contrary, Alcibiades argues his displays of wealth and power can only strengthen the city.188 For example, despite offending Nicias and Thucydides with his talent for horse- breeding, Alcibiades argues his monumental chariot victories offer both honor and an impression of power to those within and outside of Athens’ walls (6.16.2). In doing so, Alcibiades effectively reorients the relationship between private and public interest, suggesting the two can work in tandem with each other (6.16.3):

187 Nichols 2015, 126. 188 In this way, Alcibiades’ materialism echoes the rapacious nature of Menelaus in both the Odyssey and the Helen. Both characters desire the assumed power that comes with the possession of wealth, which links this desire with the eros of conquest.

101 ‘καὶ ὅσα αὖ ἐν τῇ πόλει χορηγίαις ἢ ἄλλῳ τῳ λαµπρύνοµαι, τοῖς µὲν ἀστοῖς φθονεῖται φύσει, πρὸς δὲ τοὺς ξένους καὶ αὕτη ἰσχὺς φαίνεται.’

“And again, as I gave such great delights to the city, such as providing choruses or other things, it is naturally envied by the citizens, but to foreigners this too is evidence of our strength.”

In the above passage, Alcibiades positions himself as the ultimate benefactor of the city.

Alcibiades manifests as both a god-like figure who showers his wealth and reputation upon the citizenry, and a performer who has transformed the public realm of Athens into his personal stage. Through the specific mention of the χορηγίαις (“choruses,” 6.16.3), Thucydides suggests

Alcibiades has created a complementary relationship between the dispersal of his wealth and the reputation of Athens. Traditionally, dramatic festivals like the Great Dionysia, during which such sponsorships would take place, had the dual purpose of celebrating and promoting the strength of

Athens to the outside world.189 But, by claiming the credit for these sponsorships, Alcibiades intrinsically connects the pursuance of Athens’ political and militaristic superiority to his own wealth. Through this link, Alcibiades emerges as a microcosm of the Athenian polis itself.

Alcibiades has made himself irrevocably essential to this new Athenian identity. Although the

Athenian citizenry may fear Alcibiades, the polis cannot exist without him.

Even so, Thucydides urges his readers to question whether Alcibiades’ claims are genuinely for the benefit of the polis, or solely for the image of Athens held by foreign powers.

Amidst Alcibiades’ bold statements, Thucydides has created a “thread of unreality through which

Alcibiades’ remarks are to be interpreted, giving a decidedly illusory aspect to Alcibiades’ power.”190 Thucydides has already established Alcibiades “had greater desires than what his

189 See Goldhill 1987 and Hornblower 2008, 346 on the elite sponsorship of these festivals in order to display militaristic and artistic superiority. 190 Kallet 2001, 38.

102 current status could take on” (6.15.3), suggesting much of his enviable wealth is not real capital; instead, it is an illusion created by his own desires.191 Ultimately, Alcibiades’ public displays of wealth only contribute to the creation of an illusory image of Athenian power (6.16.2):

‘οἱ γὰρ Ἕλληνες καὶ ὑπὲρ δύναµιν µείζω ἡµῶν τὴν πόλιν ἐνόµισαν…νόµῳ µὲν γὰρ τιµὴ τὰ τοιαῦτα, ἐκ δὲ τοῦ δρωµένου καὶ δύναµις ἅµα ὑπονοεῖται.’

“For the Greeks formed an idea of our power which was even greater than reality. For by custom such displays are honorable, and through such an accomplishment power is suspected.”

In his construction of his actions as honorable, civic deeds that benefit the polis, Alcibiades admits this power is ὑπονοεῖται (“suspected,” 6.15.2) by Athens’ enemies. Alcibiades alludes to his power, but he does not confirm whether it is real. This tension between realism and illusion harks back to the opening passages of the Athenian Assembly in Book 6, in which there is a degree of uncertainty as to the accuracy of the Egestans’ description of their wealth. Thus,

Thucydides underscores the emptiness that lies at the center of these luxurious displays of wealth.

Yet, the uncertainty of this power does not deter the Athenians, as it is Alcibiades’ νεότης

καὶ ἄνοια (“youth and folly,” 6.17.1) and the ὀργή (“passion”) of his speech that attract the endearment of his audience.192 Nicias once critiqued these qualities, but Alcibiades has transformed these critiques into strengths of persuasion that make what is illusory seem well within reach. The very beauty of Alcibiades’ youthfulness and the power of his voice has ultimately compromised the practicality of the Athenians.

191 Ibid. 192 Nichols 2015, 128.

103 The crux of Alcibiades’ speech rests on the defense of his character. Alcibiades hardly devotes time to detailing his plans for the Sicilian Expedition beyond his intention to utilize his powers of persuasion to ally the cities of Sicily together (6.17). It is clear that Alcibiades is similar to the kind of Athenians whom Thucydides described at the beginning of Book 6.

Alcibiades is eager to launch the expedition, yet he knows remarkably little about the island he covets.193 Once again, Thucydides draws a striking parallel between the Sicilian Expedition and the Trojan War, as the Athenians’ naivety reflects the Greek’s hope that they would swiftly conquer Troy. Yet, Alcibiades compensates for this lack of foresight in his conclusion, which, while inspiring, also includes a string of questionable maxims and promises (6.18.2):194

‘τήν τε ἀρχὴν οὕτως ἐκτησάµεθα καὶ ἡµεῖς καὶ ὅσοι δὴ ἄλλοι ἦρξαν, παραγιγνόµενοι προθύµως τοῖς αἰεὶ ἢ βαρβάροις ἢ Ἕλλησιν ἐπικαλουµένοις, ἐπεὶ εἴ γε ἡσυχάζοιεν πάντες ἢ φυλοκρινοῖεν οἷς χρεὼν βοηθεῖν, βραχὺ ἄν τι προσκτώµενοι αὐτῇ περὶ αὐτῆς ἂν ταύτης µᾶλλον κινδυνεύοιµεν’.

“We procured an empire for ourselves in this way, not only us but all the others who have in fact ruled it, as we are constantly ready to lend help to either foreigners or Greeks who have asked for it, since if everyone were to remain quiet or to choose the races whom we want to help, adding only a little to it we would bring more danger to the rest.”

In the final portion of his speech, Alcibiades deflects the focus from himself and advocates for a unified Athens. In contrast to Nicias’ goal to divide his audience by generation, Alcibiades strives to unite them. He argues that part of Athens’ strength derives from a unified readiness and cohesion.195 By shifting his language to the first-person plural, Alcibiades includes his entire audience in the cultivation of an Athenian empire. This linguistic change seemingly shifts the focus from Alcibiades’ individual desires to the collective desires of the Athenian people.

193 Ibid, 129. 194 Ober 1998, 112. 195 Forde 1989, 89.

104 While Nicias described the dangers of expansionism, Alcibiades cites that remaining idle would only pose a greater threat to the polis, an idea he expands upon in the following passage

(6.18.3):

‘καὶ οὐκ ἔστιν ἡµῖν ταµιεύεσθαι ἐς ὅσον βουλόµεθα ἄρχειν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀνάγκη, ἐπειδήπερ ἐν τῷδε καθέσταµεν, τοῖς µὲν ἐπιβουλεύειν, τοὺς δὲ µὴ ἀνιέναι, διὰ τὸ ἀρχθῆναι ἂν ὑφ᾽ ἑτέρων αὐτοῖς κίνδυνον εἶναι, εἰ µὴ αὐτοὶ ἄλλων ἄρχοιµεν.’

“And it is not possible for us to calculate like paymasters the extent to which we wish to rule, but it is necessary, since we have reached a point, to contrive new plans and not to let our empire fall, because there is a danger to ourselves that we would be ruled by others, if we ourselves should not rule others.”

More than ever before, the presence of ἄρχειν (“to rule,” 6.18.3) dominates Alcibiades’ language.

The politician infuses a desire to rule within his audience, while simultaneously conjuring a fear of being ruled, which reflects the all-conquering and contradictory nature of eros. Alcibiades foresees expansion as the only viable option, which captures the other meaning of ἄρχω: to begin. Alcibiades’ plea for “new plans” indicates things are rapidly shifting within the polis, and there is an urgent necessity to hold together an Athens that is both powerful, yet politically unstable.196 Thucydides indicates this change through the aforementioned shift of βουλόµεθα from a purely democratic word to one indicative of desire. In the past, βουλόµεθα encapsulated democratic discourse within the polis. However, Alcibiades has caused a deformation of democratic participation through his projection of his own desires upon the Athenian citizenry.

By placing βουλόµεθα adjacent to ἄρχω, Thucydides suggests Alcibiades has imprinted his imperialist ambitions upon the democratic values once embodied within βουλόµεθα.

196 Ibid, 92.

105 Alcibiades’ speech leaves the audience in a tenuous position, much like those under the spell of eros. Alcibiades has encouraged his audience to reevaluate the benefits of launching the expedition in an effort to make the Athenian Assembly concede to his demands. Alcibiades paints the decision to sail for Sicily as the safest option, even if the overall rationale is speculative.197 But whether the motivation be fear, passion, desire, or a combination of the three, in this speech, Alcibiades has catalyzed an unquenchable desire for conquest within the Athenian assembly. As Nicias will soon find out, any attempts to simmer this flame will prove futile.

Eros Attacks Athens

Although Nicias attempts to dissuade the Athenians in his rebuttal, his second speech manifests as a rhetorical failure (6.19-24).198 Nicias falls back upon his former strategy: to instill an ideology of fear and practicality within his audience. Nicias stresses the vast resources that

Athens would require in order to launch an expedition of this magnitude. Once again, the actual existence of the city’s resources is up for speculation, as shown by Nicias’ relentless distrust of the Egestian’s offer: ‘τὰ δὲ παρ᾽ Ἐγεσταίων, ἃ λέγεται ἐκεῖ ἑτοῖµα, νο µίσατε καὶ λόγῳ ἂν

µάλιστα ἑτοῖµα εἶναι (“But the resources of the Egestians, which are said to be readily at hand, know that these things are most ready only in word [than reality],” 6.22).

Nicias’ cautionary words have an opposite effect upon the Athenians, creating a newfound fervor among the citizenry rather than fear. Thucydides describes: πολὺ δὲ µᾶλλον

ὥρµηντο (“And the [Athenians] became more eager than ever before,” 6.24.2). Thucydides continues to flesh out the passion of the Athenians in a flood of the erotic and poetic language that Thucydides has interlaced throughout Book 6 (6.24.3):

197 Nichols 2015, 130. 198 Kallet 2001, 42.

106 καὶ ἔρως ἐνέπεσε τοῖς πᾶσιν ὁµοίως ἐκπλεῦσαι: τοῖς µὲν γὰρ πρεσβυτέροις ὡς ἢ καταστρεψοµένοις ἐφ᾽ ἃ ἔπλεον ἢ οὐδὲν ἂν σφαλεῖσαν µεγάλην δύναµιν, τοῖς δ᾽ ἐν τῇ ἡλικίᾳ τῆς τε ἀπούσης πόθῳ ὄψεως καὶ θεωρίας, καὶ εὐέλπιδες ὄντες σωθήσεσθαι: ὁ δὲ πολὺς ὅµιλος καὶ στρατιώτης ἔν τε τῷ παρόντι ἀργύριον οἴσειν καὶ προσκτήσεσθαι δύναµιν ὅθεν ἀίδιον µισθοφορὰν ὑπάρξειν.

All alike fell in love with the enterprise. The older men thought that they would either subdue the places against which they were to sail, or at all events, with so large a force, meet with no disaster; those in the prime of life felt a longing for foreign sights and spectacles, and had no doubt that they should come home safe again; while the idea of the common people and the soldiery was to earn wages at the moment, and make conquests that would supply a never-ending fund of pay for the future. (Trans. Warner)

The eros of the expedition violently seizes the Athenian polis against all rationality. Thucydides alludes to the uncontrollability of eros through the Athenian’s lack of resistance and their own rashness to launch the armada.199 The historian centers this passage around two particular desires: the desire for economic gain and the desire for spectacle. The yearning for money pervades this passage as Thucydides draws an intrinsic link between the expedition and economic prosperity.200 This economic angle underscores the growing need for capital throughout the polis, as spurred by the extravagance of figures such as Alcibiades. Thucydides also elaborates upon the younger generation’s desire to see ἀπούσης ὄψεως (“foreign/faraway sights,” 6.24.3). The emphasis on the spectacles’ foreignness intensifies not only the Athenians’ hyper-mythologized vision of Sicily, but further denotes the Athenians’ unfamiliarity with the

Sicilian landscape.

Furthermore, eroticism has not only claimed the Athenians; it has effectively overtaken

Thucydides’ composition. Aside from the prominence of erotic language, Thucydides also intertwines nods to other poetic works. The first line, ἔρως ἐνέπεσε (“eros seized,” 6.24.3), is a

199 Ibid 44. 200 Ibid.

107 “famously poetic expression” that evokes a statement made by Clytemnestra in the Agamemnon, in which she fears a desire may claim the Greek forces, thus delaying their homecoming.201

There is also an allusion to Pindar’s language, which harks back to the launch of the Argonauts:

τοῖς δ᾽ ἐν τῇ ἡλικίᾳ τε ἀπούσης πόθῳ ὄψεως καὶ θεωρίας (“And those in the prime of life felt a longing for foreign sights and spectacles,” 6.24.3).202 Through the allusion to the Argonauts,

Thucydides characterizes the youths in the vein of young explorers about to embark on a mythical quest. Within this sea of literary allusions, Thucydides accentuates the movement from the civic sphere to the realm of poeticism and aristocracy, as first indicated through the shift in meaning of βούλοµαι. This heightened language represents Alcibiades and his desire through a lens that mingles personal aristocratic achievement with civic discourse.

Although eros falls upon “all alike,” this passage highlights the different ways in which eros manifests within the civic body. Thucydides strengthens the disparity between the old and young generations of Athens by analyzing the differences in their desires. While the older men hope for the submission of Sicily, thoughts of adventure and discovery dominate the younger men’s thoughts. Even though Alcibiades advocated for a unified Athens, this passage insists divisions still exist within the Athenian civic body. These divisions will be personified by the leadership of the Sicilian Expedition as the recklessness of Alcibiades comes into direct conflict with the tentativeness of Nicias.

Yet, pessimism and anxiety haunt this passage. Since Nicias’ speech, Thucydides has questioned the safety of the expedition. Thucydides emphasizes this doubt, and the Athenians’ own naivety, through the integration of σωθήσεσθαι (“to be safe,'' 6.24.3). This focus on safety

201 Hornblower 2008, 361; See Ag. 341 for Thucydides’ allusion to Clytmenestra’s speech. 202 Ibid, 362.

108 underscores the minute amount of forethought that has gone into this launch. Just as Helen castrates the mental reasoning of men in the Odyssey, Alcibiades’ rhetoric has confounded the reasonability of the Athenian Assembly.

The eros of the previous passage takes a physical form in the launch of the Sicilian fleet.

Thucydides notes the general fervor among both citizens and foreigners at the Athenian harbor was one of “hope and lamentation” (6.30.2). It is difficult to reconcile how these two adverse emotions could pair together, yet this description provides an excellent lens through which to read this section. While ἐλπίς (“hope”) encapsulates the external eagerness of the Athenians upon the launch of the Armada, ὀλοφυρµός (“lamentation”) acutely captures Thucydides’ own aversion to this opulent display and builds upon the anxiety that pervades Book 6.203 ἐλπίς serves as our starting point, and is most present in Thucydides’ lengthy description of the lavish adornments on the ship and the sheer number of ships and fighting forces that Athens managed to acquire (6.31). At first glance, it seems Nicias’ initial worry about the extent of Athens’ resources has been confounded.

The description of the majesty of the Athenian fleet harks back to the launches of glamorous fleets from mythology. For example, the libations in the silver and gold goblets

(6.32.1) echo the departure of the Argo in Pindar’s version of Jason and the Argonauts.204

Further, the extensive list of the number of ships and men carries a hint of the infamous catalogue of the Greek ships from the Iliad; a comparison that is particularly noteworthy if

Thucydides intends to construct Sicily as a second Troy. Above all, it is the sight of this fleet,

203 See Avery 1973, 1-6 for Thucydides’ development of the theme of home throughout the Sicilian narrative. 204 Hornblower 2008, 381. See Pyth. 4.193-6 for the specific passage comparison.

109 which could be plucked from the mythic past, that results in this overwhelming excitement and hopefulness.205 While the “lust of the eye,” was a prime motivator behind the creation of eros in

Athens, the previous descriptions from Book 6 have centered more so around the idea of Sicily and the dream of an empire.206 In contrast, this armada is not an image conjured from the amorous dialogue of Alcibiades. The Athenians see the armada in all of its glory in real time.

While the Athenians revel in the epic spectacle of the ships, Thucydides interrogates the costliness of such an extravagant launch. Thus, the aforementioned ὀλοφυρµός (“lamentation”) begins to set in as Thucydides grants the armada the following title (6.31.1):

παρασκευὴ γὰρ αὕτη πρώτη ἐκπλεύσασα µιᾶς πόλεως δυνάµει Ἑλληνικῇ πολυτελεστάτη δὴ καὶ εὐπρεπεστάτη τῶν ἐς ἐκεῖνον τὸν χρόνον ἐγένετο.

This first armament was the most costly and magnificent that had ever been sent out by any single Greek state.

Through the tension between the words πολυτελεστάτη (“costly,” 6.31.1) and εὐπρεπεστάτη

(“magnificent,” 6.31.1), Thucydides urges the reader to question the necessity and the cost behind this fanfare. While the magnificence of the expedition itself cannot be understated, the expedition’s costliness is another animal entirely. The extensive catalogue of ships and the extravagance of the ship decorations are displays of the polis’ power, yet these adornments simultaneously stress the wastefulness of such a display.207 Thucydides later observes the following (6.31.4):

καὶ ἐς τοὺς ἄλλους Ἕλληνας ἐπίδειξιν µᾶλλον εἰκασθῆναι τῆς δυνάµεως καὶ ἐξουσίας ἢ ἐπὶ πολεµίους παρασκευήν.

205 Kallet 2001, 50. 206 Cornford 1971, 215. 207 Kallet 2001, 54.

110 And it was as if a grand display of their power and greatness was being presented to the Greeks, rather than a preparation for war.

This line clarifies the performative nature of the expedition itself, which aligns perfectly with the view Alcibiades presented at the Athenian Assembly. These three chapters at the Athenian

Harbor do not mention Alcibiades. Nevertheless, his presence seems to haunt the scene. Aspects of Alcibiades’ character reveal themselves in the competitive nature between the different ships, the private funding of particular ships, and most of all, the sheer passion that claims the spectators on the docks.208 Even the superlative forms used to describe the grandeur of the ships hark back to the language Thucydides utilized to characterize Alcibiades as a surreal public figure. Through the poetic launch of the Athenian fleet, Thucydides clarifies Alcibiades’ impact on Athens. The daring nature of the Athenians and the blend of private and public spheres of society is a reflection of Alcibiades’ own identity.

“They Feared he was a Tyrant”

At the half-way point of Book 6, Thucydides digresses from the main narrative as he recounts the history of the tyrant killers, Harmodius and Aristogeiton. These chapters (6.54-9) have sparked confusion and debate among readers. Some have followed K.J. Dover’s lead and concluded these chapters only have a “marginal relevance to the main narrative of Book VI.”209

Others have attributed Thucydides’ semi-revisionist approach in these chapters to align with his desire to prioritize accuracy and factual correctness (1.22).210 Both of these analyses fail to consider how this section connects to the rest of Book 6 on both a narrative and a thematic level.

208 Jordan 2000, 65-67. 209 Dover 58, 1965. 210 Taylor 1991, 78-79.

111 In terms of the narrative, the section immediately preceding the tyrannicide digression involves the recall of Alcibiades in order to hold him accountable for the destruction of the

Herms.211 This event occurred a matter of days before the launch of the Sicilian Expedition.

Athenians viewed the defacement of the Herms as an ill-omen for the attack on Sicily and part of a plot to overthrow the Athenian democratic system (6.28). The symbolic significance of the

Herms lies both in their practical function as boundary markers and their display of idealized masculinity, especially with respect to the statues’ prominent phallic imagery.212 The defacement of the Herms was effectively an attack on the polis itself. In addition, the essential castration of this symbol of masculine identity also attacks the gender and sexual norms of Athenian society.213 This symbolic castration mirrors the castrating effect of Aphrodite and Helen upon their suitors. In a way, the castration of the Herms reflects the uneven relationship between

Alcibiades and Athens, as he bends the polis to his own political aspirations.

Considering Alcibiades' tyrannical characteristics and effeminacy, it is not surprising that he became one of the prime suspects: ἐπιλέγοντες τεκµήρια τὴν ἄλλην αὐτοῦ ἐς τὰ ἐπιτηδεύµατα

οὐ δηµοτικὴν παρανοµίαν (“And that in all this Alcibiades had had a hand; evidence for which they found in the unconventional and undemocratic character of his life in general,” 6.28.2, trans.

Warner). Until now, Thucydides has made a point of illuminating the Athenians’ fear of tyranny, both in the presence of a tyrant force in Sicily and in the dangerously seductive nature of

Alcibiades’ rhetoric and lifestyle. Now, in the aftermath of the Herms’ destruction, this fear has

211 The Herms were tall statues with the face of a man at the top and exaggerated male genitals carved at the torso of the statue. 212 Quinn 2007, 95; and Winkler 1990a 35-46. 213 Whol 1999, 365.

112 begun to take on a physical form. Thucydides projects this tyrannical anxiety into the account of

Harmodius and Aristogeiton.

This passage undergoes an amplification of erotic language, the likes of which will not be seen for the remainder of the History.214 Although I have noted the slight variances in

Thucydides’ tone and the generic classification of Book 6, Thucydides nosedives into an undeniably romantic and lyrical literary realm in the tyrannicide digression. Thucydides’ invocation of the lyrical genre is fitting, as this style aligns with the castrating eros of Aphrodite that Thucydides alludes to in the destruction of the Herms.

In addition, echoes to Herodotus’ Histories continue to surface as these chapters manifest as an alternative to Herodotus’ initial treatment of the tyrannicides (Hdt. 5.55-66). Thucydides’ version is far bolder than that of his predecessor as he thrusts the pederastic relationship between

Harmodius and Aristogeiton into the spotlight.215 Herodotus ignores this aspect of the history, just as Thucydides did in his earlier treatment of the tyrannicide in Book 1.

This inclusion of the homosexual angle of the tyrant slayers’ relationship accounts for the explosion of sensual language that follows: τὸ γὰρ Ἀριστογείτονος καὶ Ἁρµοδίου τόλµηµα δι᾽

ἐρωτικὴν ξυντυχίαν ἐπεχειρήθη (“For the bold actions of Aristogeiton and Harmodius were undertaken through the chance of a love affair, 6.54.1”). Not only does Thucydides hammer down upon the eroticism of their relationship, but he suggests Aristogeiton and Harmodius encapsulate the defining Athenian quality of τόλµηµα (“boldness,” 6.54.1). Attentive readers of

Book 6 would associate τόλµηµα with Alcibiades and the Sicilian Expedition, as boldness “lies

214 Forde 1989, 34. 215 Hornblower 2008, 434.

113 at the core of the kinetic, expansive Athenian character.”216 In connection with the expansive desires of Athens, Steven Forde surmises the very foundations of imperialism are built upon the volatile nature of eros and the daring nature of Athens.217 Given the ambiguous, largely negative, portrayals of boldness and eroticism thus far, the extension of this characteristic to the tyrant slayers ushers in an overall sense of wariness as the reader awaits to see how this boldness will manifest.

As Thucydides develops the affair, flashes of Alcibiades’ character break through the surface in the amorous description of Harmodius (6.54.2):

γενοµένου δὲ Ἁρµοδίου ὥρᾳ ἡλικίας λαµπροῦ Ἀριστογείτων ἀνὴρ τῶν ἀστῶν, µέσος πολίτης, ἐραστὴς ὢν εἶχεν αὐτόν.

But when Harmodius was in the prime of his bright youth, Aristogeiton was a man of the city, a citizen of the middle class, Aristogeiton was his lover and he possessed him.

Thucydides’ emphasis on Harmodius’ youth harks back to earlier descriptions of Alcibiades’ own youthful vigor. The word λαµπροῦ (“bright,” 6.54.2) captures Harmodius’ attractiveness and his elite status.218 In contrast to the elite ranking of Harmodius, Aristogeiton is part of a middling class.219 Aristogeiton is presumably older than his lover, as suggested by the emphasis on

Harmodius’ youth versus Thucydides’ classification of Aristogeiton as an ἀνὴρ (“man,”

6.54.2).220 The age difference is significant, as well as the disparate power dynamics between the two lovers, which Thucydides suggests through Aristogeiton’s sole possession of Harmodius. In

216 Forde 1989, 18. 217 Forde 1986, 440. 218 Whol 1999, 358. 219 Morris 1997, 37: Morris contends changes in poetry and archaeology in the 6th century reflected an emerging middle class that came into conflict with the elitist ideology. It is worth considering how the elite and middle classifications of Harmodius and Aristogiton reflect this conflict. 220 Whol 1999, 358.

114 spite of this unevenness, Victoria Whol notes their relationship provides a “democratic model of sexuality.”221 In spite of Harmodius’ greater social status, Aristogeiton can still engage in an erotic relationship with him. Thus, their relationship causes a breakdown of social standards in the private realm, alluding to the power of eros to rupture boundaries. However, the privacy of this relationship is key. Harmodius and Aristogeiton’s relationship has not intruded into the public realm. This distinction stands in stark contrast to Alcibiades, who has allowed his private passions to bleed into public life, thus posing a threat to the stability of the polis. As long as

Harmodius and Aristogeiton’s relationship remains private, the power of eros will not extend past the walls of the private realm.

The moment that breaks this fragile balance of democracy and sexuality comes in the form of Hipparchus, who has attempted to seduce Harmodius (6.54.3). This sexual act catalyzes a toxic jealousy within Aristogeiton as this slight compels him to punish Hipparchus (6.54.3):

ὁ δὲ ἐρωτικῶς περιαλγήσας καὶ φοβηθεὶς τὴν Ἱππάρχου δύναµιν µὴ βίᾳ προσαγάγηται αὐτόν, ἐπιβουλεύει εὐθὺς ὡς ἀπὸ τῆς ὑπαρχούσης ἀξιώσεως κατάλυσιν τῇ τυραννίδι.

But this caused him sexual pain as he also feared that the strength of Hipparchus would seize Harmodius by force, and so he immediately began planning, as far as his influence allowed, the overthrow of the tyranny.

Aristogeiton’s reaction is characteristic of an agitated lover, but Thucydides takes especial care to fully draw out his rage and his fear. Aristogeiton’s rage is simple to understand, as Hipparchus has threatened to take something Aristogeiton thought he held securely.222 At its core, this rage

221 Ibid. 222 A connection can be drawn between Aristogeiton and Paris in Euripides’ Helen. Both men believe they securely hold the object of their desire, Harmodius and Helen, respectively. Even both authors use the same word (εἶχεν) to describe Aristogeiton and Paris’ confidence in the secure possession of their prize. The sudden loss of this object sparks violence, as seen in Aristogeiton’s murder of Hipparchus and the Trojan War.

115 evokes Aristogeiton’s sexual jealousy. However, his fear is a bit more complex. Aristogeiton fears the instability of eros, and its tendency to rupture traditional power structures. As an older man, Aristogeiton dreads the prospect of losing the power that comes with his status as the erastes (older lover).

It is the pain of eros that sets off both of these emotions, quite similarly to the impact eros wreaked upon the Athenian assembly following the speech of Alcibiades. Although there is a slight difference between this sexually charged rage and the political desire of the earlier chapters, the resulting frenzied and uncontrollable charge of emotions is the same. In both cases, the issue at hand cannot remain in the private realm, and must be resolved in the public sphere. A new course of action is required, as implied by ἐπιβουλεύει (“to plan,” 6.54.3), a compound

Alcibiades also used in his defense of the Sicilian Expedition. For the Athenians, their imperialistic desire must be sent out to sea. As for Aristogeiton, he concludes the cure to his sexual jealousy lies in the punishment of Hipparchus within the public realm of the polis.

Aside from Aristogeiton’s heightened emotional response, this passage urges readers to connect Hipparchus and Alcibiades. While Harmodius encapsulates the beautiful and captivating aspects of Alcibiades’ identity, Hipparchus embodies Alcibiades’ fierceness and tenacity.

Although violence is not the leading element of Alcibiades’ character, his methods of rhetorical persuasion manifest as an element just as powerful as Hipparchus’ force.223 Hipparchus’ characterization also contains facets of Alcibiades’ competitive streak and his desire for something out of reach, as suggested by his unrelenting pursuit of Harmodius. This desire proves to be devastating for not only both character’s fates, but also for the prosperity of the polis.

223 Vickers 2008, 137 contends there is a hint of Alcibiades’ name in the inclusion of βίᾳ, which draws out the third syllable of his name: Alcibiades.

116 In the climatic slaughter of Hipparchus, it is difficult to find any glimmer of triumph in this touchstone of Athenian history. Thucydides specifically focuses on the motives of

Harmodius and Aristogeiton: καὶ ὡς ἂν µάλιστα δι᾽ ὀργῆς ὁ µὲν ἐρωτικῆς, ὁ δὲ ὑβρισµένος,

ἔτυπτον καὶ ἀποκτείνουσιν αὐτόν (“And entirely through fury, in one case, the fury of an injured lover, the other, the fury of a man with wounded pride, they struck him and they killed him,” 6.57.3). Personal and private desires push the lovers to kill Hipparchus. In this moment,

Thucydides makes an explicit connection between the motives of the tyrant slayers and the private desires that laid the foundation for the Sicilian Expedition. The sexual eros of Harmodius and Aristogeiton and the imperialist eros of Alcibiades lead to a hasty, and ultimately violent, decision. Through this connection, Thucydides underscores the problems that come with following natural impulse (ὀργή) instead of reason. For the tyrant slayers, there is not a greater moral mission to rid the city of tyrants or restructure the political system. To the contrary, their personal quest for revenge drives them forward. Likewise, the Athenians could care less about the veiled reason of the Sicilian Expedition (to help their kinsmen in Sicily). Instead, it is the idea of empire, perhaps even the idea of Alcibiades, that the Athenians hold close to their hearts.

While Harmodius and Aristogeiton’s murder of Hipparchus plunges the Athenian public into a harsh tyrannical regime under Hippias, the failure of the Sicilian Expedition presages the fall of

Athenian democracy.

In perfect ring symmetry, Thucydides characterizes the actions of Aristogeiton and

Harmodius as ἀλόγιστος τόλµα, (“thoughtless daring,” 6.59.1). At the beginning of the tyrannical digression, Thucydides called the love of Harmodius and Aristogeiton τόλµηµα. At that point, however, the type of τόλµα was not yet defined. The negative manifestation of τόλµα in this

117 digression, and arguably throughout Book 6, questions the value Athenians place on their boldness.224 Further, if τόλµα is intrinsic to the manifestation of imperialist desire, Thucydides simultaneously urges his readers to interrogate the Athenian desire for an empire.

There is one final nod to Alcibiades at the conclusion of the tyrant digression. When

Hippias finds himself under siege by his political rivals, he plots to retreat to a foreign land

(6.59.4). Hippias’ flight foreshadows Alcibiades’ eventual deflection from Athens and his arrival in Sparta at the end of Book 6. When Alcibiades arrives in Sparta, he puts aside his Athenian loyalties and presents himself as a sympathetic character who has been wronged by his city

(6.89.4-6). Yet, he does not completely refute his love for Athens as he refers to himself twice as a φιλόπολις (“a lover of the city,” 92.2). Through this compound, Thucydides completes the linguistic contamination that has plagued Book 6 since the opening chapter. Beginning with the compromised meaning of βούλοµαι at 6.1, Thucydides has effectively conflated the language of the private sphere of Alcibiades with the language of the city. The word φιλόπολις, which displays the convergence of Alcibiades’ love with the civic connotations of the polis, indicates a pederastic love has grown between Alcibiades and Athens. But akin to the pederasty of the tyrant slayers, this love is unstable and tinged with the impulsiveness and boldness of personal desire.

Ultimately, Alcibiades still has an unwavering desire to return to his beloved Athens. But there remains an underlying question of whether Alcibiades yearns for the land of Athens itself, or the concept of an Athenian empire?

224 Forde 1989, 37.

118 Conclusions

This chapter began with an evaluation of Thucydides’ shift in style at the start of Book 6.

In the Sicilian archaeology, intriguingly erotic and poetic language breaks the formerly rigid prose of Thucydides -- language that encapsulates the Athenians’ desire to conquer Sicily and characterizes the locale as a foreign and mythical land apt for Athenian conquest.

Afterwards, I conducted a close analysis of the speeches of Nicias and Alcibiades. I identified trends of erotic language in both speeches. While Nicias’ political rhetoric collapses in the face of the Athenians’ uncontrollable eros, Alcibiades manages to adapt the meaning of traditionally democratic language, such as βούλοµαι, for his own imperialistic ends. In this section, I also considered the ways in which Alcibiades incites a rupture in the divisions of the private and public spheres of Athenian life. In the eventual launch of the Sicilian Expedition, these elements of poetic allusion, public displays of private wealth, and uncontrollable desire take a physical form in Thucydides’ description of the Athenian Armada. This conclusion to the first third of Book 6 showcases Alcibiades’ ultimate influence upon the Athenian polis, an influence Thucydides suggests has more negative consequences for Athens than positive.

I concluded this chapter with a brief evaluation of Thucydides’ tyrannicide digression. In the digression, each of the tyrants embodies elements of Alcibiades’ character, ranging from the tempestuous youthfulness of Harmodius to the unbound eros of Aristogeiton. This section also showcases the negative sides of Athenian boldness, and the ways in which this boldness could harm the stability of the polis. Ultimately, this passage showcases the fears the Athenians held, with respect to Alcibiades’ tyrannical leanings.

119 In the final description of Alcibiades as a φιλόπολις, Thucydides concludes the underlying narrative of Book 6: Alcibiades’ seizure of the city. Alcibiades has effectively displaced his imperialist desire upon the city, and released an eros that is unbound and unchecked. Alcibiades’ unstable love for Athens parallels the personal eros found in Aristogeiton and Harmodius’ pederastic relationship. However, Alcibiades’ relationship with the city fails to adhere to the marked divisions within pederasty of a sole pursuer and a sole pursued. Alcibiades desires Athens, yet her people equally desire Alcibiades, thus creating a constant shift between the roles of erastes (the older, pursuer) and eromenos (the younger, pursued). However,

Thucydides was not the only ancient author to recognize the manifestation of this eros between

Alcibiades and Athens. In the concluding chapter of this thesis, I turn to Plato’s Symposium, in which the philosopher alludes to the innate problems of Alcibiades’ eros through the instability of the relationship between Alcibiades and Socrates and the intersection of the genres of tragedy, comedy, and philosophy.

120 Conclusion: Eros Interrupted

Author’s Note: Due to the immediate evacuation of Wellesley’s campus in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, I was unable to complete the research necessary to fully expand upon Plato’s Symposium. In spite of the limited bibliography, I am confident the ideas of this section still support the overall themes and questions of this thesis.

In the Symposium (c.385-370 BCE), Plato offers a nostalgic look at the Athenian polis in

416 BCE. This philosophical work reimagines a time before the fall of Athenian democracy in

404 BCE and the trial of Socrates in 399 BCE. The Symposium also emerges as an apologetic text. Plato defends the character and education of Socrates through his description of Socrates’ superior encomium on the nature of eros. Unlike the other competitors, Socrates’ definition of eros does not depend on physical attraction, but rather a philosophical eros that values the pursuit of knowledge and the beauty of the mind. Nevertheless, in spite of this nostalgia, Plato hints at the destruction awaiting Athens through his erotic representation of Alcibiades.

After Socrates offers his own definition of eros in the Symposium, it seems the dialogue is nearing its conclusion. However, the sudden arrival of a group of drunken revelers threatens to disrupt the philosophical balance Socrates had just established. Alcibiades is at the very front of this formation (212d-e):

καὶ ἐπιστῆναι ἐπὶ τὰς θύρας, ἐστεφανωµένον αὐτὸν κιττοῦ τέ τινι στεφάνῳ δασεῖ καὶ ἴων, καὶ ταινίας ἔχοντα ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς πάνυ πολλάς

“He was brought in, supported by the flute-girl and some of the other people in his group. He stood by the door, wearing a thick garland of ivy and violets, with masses of ribbons trailing over his head…” (Trans. Gill and Lee)

This image of Alcibiades, dressed in the garb of Dionysus, as he stands between the private interior of the symposium and the chaos of the outside world is representative of the ideas and questions that have dominated this thesis. It would be a misstep not to briefly dwell on Plato’s

121 representation of Alcibiades — one that is so tightly intertwined with unfulfilled erotic desire and the subversion of literary genre. There is a tragic element to the uncontrollability of Alcibiades’ identity, which Nussbaum expands upon as she suggests Plato intended to link the dialogue with the death of Alcibiades in 404 BCE — akin to a eulogy for the spurned politician.225 A brief overview of the Symposium will form the bulk of this concluding chapter as I consider the importance of Alcibiades to the text of the dialogue and the mixture of genres his character embodies.

Although Alcibiades’ appearance makes up less than a quarter of the Symposium, he still manifests as the focal point of the dialogue. After all, the Symposium is a work about erotic passion and the question of its definability. Thus, Plato’s dialogue is a perfect way to tie together the elements of this thesis.226 As previously noted, Alcibiades both invokes erotic desire and is a human manifestation of eros.227 Plato draws upon both of these elements in the Symposium. If we look again at Alcibiades’ attire, his crown is not only made of ivy. His crown is also made of violets: the symbols of Aphrodite.228 By combining the sweetness of the violets with Alcibiades’ uproarious interruption, Plato captures the disruptive and uncontrollable nature of eros.

Thematically, as well, it seems Plato meant to hurtle towards the intrusion of Alcibiades, which surfaces as a final contest between Socrates’ non-physical definition of eros and the innate human desire for physical beauty. Unlike Socrates, Alcibiades finds himself caught in a bodily

225 Nussbaum 1979, 137. 226 Ibid, 134. 227 See Plutarch’s description of Alcibiades’ shield: “His shield, again, which was richly gilded, had not the usual ensigns of the Athenians, but a Cupid, holding a thunderbolt in his hand, was painted upon it” (Vit. Alc. 16.1, trans. Fuller). Plato notes this lightning imagery and later weaves it into Alcibiades’ speech. 228 Nussbaum 1979, 162.

122 love. As a result, the very foundation of Alcibiades' argument does not rely on philosophical discourse. Instead, Alcibiades tells his story through images and his own sexual experience with

Socrates.229 Alcibiades’ reliance on images aligns with his dialogue in the History as he conjures image after image of his own public victories and then the dream of an Athenian empire. This emphasis on images also rubs against Diotima’s insistence that true beauty cannot be found solely in visualization (212a).

In addition to this philosophic departure, the object of Alcibiades’ eye also breaks the standard conventions of beauty. Socrates is not attractive by any normal standards. Alcibiades admits to this by comparing Socrates to Marsyas the Satyr and to the statues of Silenus (215a).

However, what Alcibiades thinks he sees inside Socrates, this god-like display of virtue, causes

Alcibiades to experience an eruption of desire. In a similar way, Alcibiades desires to seize the virtue of democratic Athens, thus reflecting the manifestation of a pederastic relationship between Alcibiades and the polis at the conclusion of Book 6 of the History.

In our study of Alcibiades thus far, we have always seen him as the object of desire or the one who invokes desire in others. Alcibiades’ role in his relationship with Socrates is traditionally that of an eromenos, the younger, passive lover, whereas Socrates is the older erastes.230 While Alcibiades might enter the symposium as an eromenos, he undergoes a metamorphosis into an erastes. As Nussbaum notes, Alcibiades is no longer content with remaining a self-sufficient object.231 Alcibiades' desire to know Socrates and open him up like a

Silenus inevitably shifts the conventional, and generational, roles of a pederastic relationship.

229 Ibid, 153. 230 Dover 1989, 16. 231 Nussbaum 1979, 156-160.

123 The force of Alcibiades’ eros transforms the power dynamics of pederasty, with the result that

Alcibiades manifests as a god-like figure akin to Dionysus, while Socrates is his subservient satyr.

One of the more poignant displays of this reversal is in Alcibiades’ description of

Socrates’ philosophical speech (215d):

ἐπειδὰν δὲ σοῦ τις ἀκούῃ ἢ τῶν σῶν λόγων ἄλλου λέγοντος, κἂν πάνυ φαῦλος ᾖ ὁ λέγων, ἐάντε γυνὴ ἀκούῃ ἐάντε ἀνὴρ ἐάντε µειράκιον, ἐκπεπληγµένοι ἐσµὲν καὶ κατεχόµεθα.

But whenever someone hears you speak or hears your words reported by someone else (even if he’s a very poor speaker), whoever we are — woman, man, or boy — we’re overwhelmed and spell-bound. (Trans. Gill and Lee)

The effect of Socrates’ speech is reminiscent of Alcibiades’ effect on the Athenians during his debate with Nicias. Both Socrates and Alcibiades’ language has an all-encompassing and quasi- magical effect upon their respective audiences. But here, it is Socrates’ rhetoric, not the speech of

Alcibiades, that has the power to mentally disarm its listener, thus emphasizing the fundamentally unstable nature of eros. As a result, for the first time in our study, we have encountered a vulnerable Alcibiades. The Athenian Assemblymen express this same vulnerability following the decision to launch the Sicilian Expedition. Both instances reveal the madness that comes with Alcibiades’ eros for Socrates and Athens’ eros for an empire.

In his acknowledgement of Socrates’ internal beauty and the subsequent desire to know it himself, Alcibiades attempts to sexually gratify Socrates. Socrates refuses to engage with

Alcibiades, on the grounds that these two types of beauty, the seeming and the real, are not interchangeable. While Socrates’ guidance should lead Alcibiades higher up Diotima’s ladder, he remains at the bottom rung. Ultimately, Alcibiades cannot be satisfied in a relationship with

124 Socrates outside of a traditional pederastic model devoid of sexual consummation. In his eyes, a relationship cannot exist without the labels of the pursuer and the pursued. The only option for

Alcibiades is to leave the symposium; a move that showcases the failure of his Socratic education.232

Plato reflects the clash of Alcibiades and Socrates’ ideologies, and the subsequent disruption it causes, through the generic confusion of the Symposium. At its core, the Symposium is a philosophic work, but it also faces stylistic intrusions from the genres of comedy and tragedy. Just as Euripides and Thucydides manipulated literary genre and style in order to capture the uncontrollability of Helen and Alcibiades, Plato blends comedy and tragedy into his characterization of Alcibiades.

There are two representatives from each genre at the Symposium: Aristophanes and

Agathon. In each of their speeches, Aristophanes and Agathon liven up the symposium by intertwining the very extremes of their respective genres into their rhetoric.233 On the comedic side, Aristophanes manifests as a comedic character from one of his plays as his exaggerated hiccups cause a humorous interruption in the philosophic proceedings.234 Later in his speech,

Aristophanes bolsters his argument with fantastical and comical images of the earliest humans

(189e-190c). On the other hand, through excessive and poetic language, Agathon depicts his eros as an eternally beautiful and delicate young man. However, the tragedy at the heart of Agathon’s

232 The failure of Alcibiades’ Socratic education on account of his bodily desire reflects the failure of the Sicilian expedition. Much like Alcibiades’ yearning for consummation, the Athenians’ lust for an empire destroys the polis. 233 Crick and Polakos 2008, 10. 234 Clay 1975, 242: On the hiccup, Clay also notes this complicates the order of the speeches as Eryximachus must now go before Aristophanes. However, the new presentation order allows for a convergence of comic and tragic conventions. The revised order also strengthens my argument that the three latter speeches are meant to be seen as three acts of a drama, with Alcibiades bringing up the rear.

125 argument is that his version of eros is too perfect, and thus, unattainable to the average human.

Socrates’ subsequent claim merges the dialogue into philosophic territory as he takes his definition of eros to “new intellectual and theological heights.”235 In Socrates’ speech, he refutes each of the previous arguments blow for blow, turning the outward desires of Aristophanes and

Agathon inward.

There is barely a moment to digest Socrates’ speech before Alcibiades arrives in his

Dionysian garb. Everything about Alcibiades’ appearance screams of dualities. At the threshold,

Alcibiades is both within and outside of the symposium, he holds the sexual aggression of a man and the femininity of Aphrodite, and, most importantly, he manifests as a fusion of comedy and tragedy. Through this combination of genres, Alcibiades manifests as the traditional satyr play that typically followed three tragic performances.236 Although what we know about satyr plays is sparse, their genre could best be described as “romantic,” as it combined both tragic and comedic styles.237 If we take each of the genres encountered in the Symposium thus far as three individual performances (Aristophanes’ comedy, Agathon’s tragedy, and Socrates’ philosophical dialogue), then Alcibiades would bring up the rear as the mixed Satyr play. The satyric flair of Alcibiades’ entrance and his later dialogue is canonized at the conclusion of the Symposium as Socrates reviews Alcibiades’ speech: “We’ve seen the purpose of this satyr-play — and Silenus-play— of yours” (222d, trans. Gill and Lee).

235 Sheffield 2001, 193. 236 Clay 1975, 249: Each of the three preceding speeches, or “performances,” were tragic in essence. This encapsulates even the comic presentation of Aristophanes. While Aristophanes’ presentation is fantastical and humorous, it also underscores the fear of human incompletion. Aristophanes even urges his speech not to be treated as pure comedy (193b). In this light, the satyr model works. 237 Griffith 2015, 1.

126 It is not only Alcibiades’ appearance that displays this convergence of genres. Alcibiades’ speech has elements from Aristophanes and Agathon’s presentations. In his desire for physical consummation, Alcibiades evokes Aristophanes’ theory of two human souls seeking out the other’s pair. Further, it is difficult not to see Alcibiades in Agathon’s depiction of eros as a beautiful, delicate youth. This is the type of beauty Alcibiades wishes he could embody in the traditional pederastic model. Nevertheless, Alcibiades can no longer hold the role of the eromenos in the inverted model that he has created.

Linguistically, Alcibiades’ speech also contains nods to both genres. As for the speech’s comedic style, through the very situation of a reversed pederastic relationship and Alcibiades’ failure to seduce Socrates, Plato has created a comedic paradox.238 Further, Plato scatters phrases throughout Alcibiades’ dialogue pulled directly from comedic performances, ranging from

Alcibiades’ exclamatory τὸν Ποσειδῶ (“O Posiedon,” 214d) to a line from Aristophanes’ Clouds

(221b).239 On the other hand, Plato roots the tragic elements of Alcibiades’ speech in the unresolved passion Alcibiades experiences. The highly physical and pained response of

Alcibiades mirrors the love-lorn women of tragedy, such as Medea and Phaedra. Apart from his romantic toil, Alcibiades' story also ends in ruin. Especially if we take Nussbaum’s argument into consideration, that Plato framed the Symposium around Alcibiades’ death, Alcibiades’ failure to win over Socrates and his ultimate departure from the symposium can be read as a tragic ending.

Through Alcibiades’ failure, Plato simultaneously presages the tragic fall of Athens.

Aside from these intertwined comic and tragic elements, there are other ways in which

Alcibiades’ dialogue also has the characteristics of a satyr play. It is generally accepted that a

238 Dover 1980, 164. 239 Ibid 163, 174. The line from the Clouds is βρενθυόµενος καὶ τὠφθαλµὼ παραβάλλων (Ar.Nub.362).

127 satyr play would revisit themes from the previous three plays through a juxtaposition of heroic and comic elements.240 In a similar vein, a link exists between the speeches of Socrates and

Alcibiades in their descriptions of eros and the mysteries of philosophical eros.241 Further, the

Silenus-like figure displays this division between comic and serious elements.242 While the outside of the figure pokes fun at Socrates’ less than flattering appearance, the golden innards of the statue symbolize the beauty of Socrates’ nature and his philosophic brilliance. At the end of the Symposium, Socrates contends that a writer should be able to write both tragedy and comedy with equal ease. By using the hybrid genre of the satyr play, Alcibiades has accomplished this feat.

And yet, in this highly performative display of the tragic and the comic, there is a lingering question of its place within the symposium and the greater ramifications for the polis.

In the 5th century, comedy and tragedy did not, and could not, mix.243 In the Symposium, the very presence of Alcibiades incites a shift in genre. This hybridity has no place within the private space of the symposium, where philosophy is deemed the superior genre.244 As Andrea

Nightingale puts it, Plato was only able to create a separate identity for philosophy “precisely by designating certain modes of discourse and spheres of identity as ‘anti-philosophical.’”245 By drawing these strict boundaries, Plato ensures that there is no space for Alcibiades at the

240 Sheffield 2001, 196. 241 See Ibid 196-197 for a comprehensive list of all the similarities between the two speeches. 242 Ibid, 198. 243 Clay 1975, 20. 244 There is a hierarchy of style and content in the ancient world. Plato hints at this through the progression of speakers left standing after the Symposium. After Alcibiades’ departure, Socrates is left with Aristophanes and Agathon. Once Aristophanes and then Agathon both fall asleep, Socrates leaves to continue his day -- suggesting the genre of philosophy trumps tragedy and comedy. See Kurke 2006, 8 for more on this stylistic hierarchy. 245 Nightingale 1995, 10-11.

128 symposium, and that much like the genre of poetry, Alcibiades must be banished from Plato’s ideal philosophical sphere.246 Thus, Alcibiades joins the other revelers and takes his eros into the city. Athenian democracy is fragile, and as Alcibiades wanders into the chaos of the night, there is a sense of overwhelming foreboding of what his unhinged eros will unleash upon the polis.247

The idea that Alcibiades’ hybridity disrupts social connection at the symposium resonates with the various ideas represented in this thesis. The goals of this thesis were twofold. The first was to demonstrate how Helen and Alcibiades embody the multiplicity of eros. I contend both surface as figures of desire, specifically imperialist desire, and that this desire inevitably leads to a breakdown of structure. The second centered around Alcibiades’ identity as a new, undefinable character in the Athenian literary imagination. As a result, I have argued that in order to authentically represent both Helen and Alcibiades, authors of the 5th-century had to merge different literary traditions. Thus, this divergence from generic conventions reflects the chaos that the imperialistic eros of Athens wreaked upon the civic and democratic body of the polis.

In Chapter 1, I traced the literary history of Helen’s character, and determined how she encapsulates the “bitter-sweetness” of the erotic experience. While Helen’s beauty, and the value that comes with her, is desirous, the seizure of Helen results in the fracturing of traditional power structures and the outbreak of war. Thus, she encapsulates both the desirous eros and the unstable power structure of eros. In my close-reading of the Odyssey, I explored the uneven power dynamics of Helen and Menelaus’ relationship after the Trojan War, which further reflects the instability of eros. In addition, I considered the importance of Helen’s voice to her identity, and the ways in which she used vocalization as a means of obtaining power in her marriage. Through

246 Kurke 2006, 6. 247 Nussbaum 1979, 165.

129 the setting of a bleak, post-war Sparta, I suggested Homer questions the value behind the pursuit of Helen, and also the imperialistic motives behind such eros.

Afterwards, I conducted an analysis of Book 2 of the Histories. First, I examined the parallels between Herodotus’ construction of Egypt and the traditional characteristics of Helen, such as their shared wonder and paradoxical nature. Next, I analyzed Herodotus’ characterization of Helen as purely a commodity, instead of a fully formed character. I concluded Herodotus interrogates the futility of the Trojan War through this stripped down version of Helen. If Helen is deprived of her beauty, then the purpose behind launching a campaign to retrieve her becomes strikingly questionable.

My Chapter 1 analysis concluded with a brief reading of Sappho 16, in which the poet presents Helen as both the object and subject of desire. Sappho’s characterization of Helen is unique, as she does not blame Helen for the cause of the Trojan War, and goes on to reject the violent and glorious displays of war culture. Although Helen’s choice to pursue her desire still causes discord within her household, Helen’s decision lacks wider ramifications for the Greek and Trojan soldiers. In this instance, Helen encapsulates the experience of being a part of this erotic instability, yet, she does not embody the imperialistic desire of her literary predecessors.

Once I established these intermingled elements of Helen’s mythology, and thus established her canonic identity, I then progressed to my analysis of Euripides’ Helen. I conducted my study of Helen through a historical lens as I studied how the play underscores the consequences of imperialist desire. Through the ethereal and unobtainable nature of Helen’s eidolon, I determined Euripides addresses the futility of the naval imperialism that urged Athens to launch the Sicilian Expedition. In contrast, through the characterization of a chaste and

130 virtuous Helen, Euripides seems to advocate for a return to these traits. However, through the ambiguity of Helen’s character at the play’s conclusion, Euripides urges his audience to consider the perseverance of these characteristics in a society plagued by materialism and desire. Thus, this unresolved presentation of Helen still indicates the very presence of eros in any form can incite this imperialistic desire. No matter the amount or type of eros Helen contains, it still has the potential to corrupt the purity of the play’s characters (with the exception of Theonoe).

After my analysis of Helen’s character, I evaluated the significance of the play’s Egyptian setting. I narrowed in upon the fantastical elements of Helen’s interpretation of the Egyptian landscape, and how this locale manifests as something as desirable as Helen’s eidolon. However, much like Helen’s own character, the purity of Egypt is threatened by the intrusion of violence and warfare as Menelaus slaughters the Egyptian soldiers on the Nile River. As a result,

Euripides emphasizes the greater point of the Helen: any amount and any kind of eros can decay into imperialist desire.

I concluded Chapter 2 by considering how Euripides intertwines the genres of tragedy, comedy, and choral dance. Specifically, I showed how Euripides points to a key facet of imperialist desire within each of these genres: the consequences it poses to the Athenian polis

(tragedy), the arrogance and blindness such desire incites in its subject (comedy), and the unbound power of eros itself (choral performance). I located a point of stability in the character of Theonoe, who surfaces as the one character untainted by imperialistic desire. Yet, her divine and fantastical identity questions the very existence of such moral judgement. Through the instability of genre, I suggested Euripides reflects the chaos that struck Athens following the

Sicilian Expedition.

131 Finally, in Chapter 3, I considered how these elements of imperialist desire and genre manifested in Book 6 of Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War. I began my analysis by considering the shift in Thucydides’ rhetorical style as the historian moves away from his journalistic prose to a style reminiscent of the poetic works of Aeschylus and Pindar. I argued this shift was necessary in order for Thucydides to fully encapsulate the Athenians’ desire to conquer Sicily. Further, Alcibiades’ very presence within the narrative, much like Helen’s, necessitates this stylistic shift in order to highlight the polis’ transition from Pericles’ system of governance to Alcibiades’ imperialist agenda. One of the ways Thucydides captures this political shift is through the change in meaning of βούλοµαι as it transforms from a democratic word to a word used to define the eros of Athens.

In tandem with these stylistic shifts, I identified the ways in which Alcibiades causes boundaries to crumble within the Athenian polis, namely the division between the private and public realms of Athens. Through Alcibiades’ projection of his political ambition within the public sphere, Thucydides reflects the instability of eros as a power structure through his injection of private desire into the heart of the public sphere. As a result, eros seizes the Athenian people, inciting a lack of practical reasoning and an eagerness to conquer Sicily; in contrast to

Pericles’ anti-expansionist ideology and the stability of Pericles’ governance. The influence of

Alcibiades physically emerges with the launch of the Athenian armada as ships reminiscent of the mythic past sail for Sicily.

I concluded Chapter 3 with an analysis of the so-called tyrannicide digression in the middle of Book 6, which relays the danger Alcibiades posed to Athens. Through the public consequences caused by the eruption of Harmodius and Aristogeiton’s personal desires,

132 Thucydides suggests the launch of the Sicilian Expedition presaged similar, if not worse, repercussions for the Athenian polis. Ultimately, the digression reveals the Athenians’ fear of a descent into a tyrannical regime. And yet, Thucydides indicates Athens had already begun its fall from grace as Alcibiades institutes a problematic and ever-shifting relationship between himself and the city -- a relationship that mirrors the erotic pederasty of Harmodius and Aristogeiton.

The eros of Helen and Alcibiades and their tendency to subvert genre reach their peak in

Plato’s Symposium. Through Alcibiades’ failure to complete his Socratic education, on account of his personal desire and his subversion of the traditional pederastic model, Plato determines such instability has no place within the philosophical realm of the symposium. Plato emphasizes this instability through the hybridity of Alcibiades since he encapsulates the qualities of both tragedy and comedy. Plato’s intentionality behind this convergence of genres mirrors the genre blending of Helen and the intrusion of poetic expression in the History. Helen and Alcibiades’ very embodiment of multifaceted eros poses a problem to these authors, just as Alcibiades’ imperialistic intentions create uncontrollable desire within the Athenian polis. By superimposing the polyvalent qualities of eros onto these figures, each of these authors identifies the bigger societal issues of Helen and Alcibiades’ imperialist eros.

Thus, as Euripides, Thucydides, and Plato retreated to their respective genres (tragedy, history, and philosophy) to write and record the dissolution of their beloved polis, they discovered the confines of their genres could not contain the eros of Helen and Alcibiades. The only way forward was to carve out a new mode of literary expression, one that broke down the standards of genre. Within the romantic and convoluted turf of this new literary imagination,

133 these authors illuminated the eros of Helen and Alcibiades: both its alluring beauty and the devastation it wreaks upon any semblance of stability.

In the end, imperialistic desire destabilized Athenian democracy, just as it destabilized the standards of literary genre.

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