The Good, the Bad, and the Grouch A Comparison of Characterization in Menander and Ancient Philosophers

By Matthew W. McDonald

ἁλωτα γίνετ’ ἐπιμελείᾳ καὶ πόνῳ ἅπαντ’ “All is attainable through care and work” -Sostratos, Dyskolos 862-3

Thanks to my father and mother, Dr. William Owens, Dr. Ruth Palmer, Dean Webster, Cary Frith, and all the faculty and staff members of the Department of Classics and World Religions and of the Honors Tutorial College

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Table of Contents:

Forward: My History with the Texts iv

Chapter 1: Introduction  The Background of Menander 1  The Study of Characterization 7  Characterization in Philosophy 16

Chapter 2: Character through Solitude and Friendship: An Analysis of the Dyskolos  The Dyskolos in History and Scholarship 30  The Characters of Knemon, Kallippides, Sostratos, and Gorgias 40

Chapter 3: Character through Father and Son: An Analysis of the Samia  The Samia in History and Scholarship 61  The Characters of Moschion and Demeas 69

Chapter 4: Conclusion 100

Bibliography 106

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Forward: My History with the Texts

I was first introduced to Menander in the tenth grade, when I played Sostratos in my school’s production of the Dyskolos. It is difficult to explain why exactly I became so fond of that play, I think most of my classmates found it boring; it was by no means gut-bustingly hilarious, nor was the plot particularly interesting. Yet, the characters had a certain undeniable charm; the lover was endearingly naïve; the country-boy was unexpectedly profound; the slaves were deviously clever; and the titular grumpy old man embodied the sympathetic villain. The essence of the play was in these characters. It was also while in high school that I was introduced to Plato and

Aristotle. While I might not have always agreed with their discussions of ethics and virtues, I was fascinated by their arguments and the idea that these subjective topics could be explored in a logical and precise manner. One thing that I particularly found interesting was the emphasis they had on behavior and emotions in relation to morality; character also was the essence of their topics.

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Chapter 1: Introduction

The Background of Menander

Menander enjoyed a successful career. Not only did he produce a significant number of works during his thirty year career, having written over an estimated one hundred plays, but he received at least eight victories at dramatic festivals.1

“Menander was not only a prolific exponent of [New Comedy]…but he was also, according to ancient authors its star.”2 In addition to being popular during his own time, his plays were adapted for Roman audiences by playwrights like Plautus and

Terence.3 While the mere fact that Menander was able to write places him among the elite minority, his plays were performed at public festivals before an audience of the broad Athenian populace, consisting of men from various social classes and possibly women and slaves.4 Unlike his dramatic predecessors, however, Menander was not limited to Athenian audiences. His plays were not performed only once at a festival, but went on tour in Greek and Hellenistic city-states.5 “This new professionalism

1 Sebastiana Nervegna, Menander in Antiquity, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 12-3 2 Susan Lape, Reproducing Athens, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 9 3 Ibid. 4 Eric Csapo, “Performing Comedy in the Fifth through Early Third Centuries,” in The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Comedy, ed. Michael Fontaine and Adele C. Scafuro, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 53 5 Michael J. Walton and Peter D. Arnott, Menander and the Making of Comedy, (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1996), 34

1 enlarged the scope of the theatre and brought it to wider audiences.”6 Menander was the star of Greek theater when everybody was watching.

Early in the modern era, Menander was not particularly esteemed in comparison to other classical authors. “It was Euripides who fought this death struggle of tragedy; the later art is known as the New Attic Comedy. In it the degenerate form of tragedy lived on as a monument of the most painful and violent death of tragedy proper,” wrote Friedrich Nietzsche in The Birth of Tragedy.7 When only fragments of Menander remained, scholars were quick to dismiss it as trivial literature. In comparison to the Old Comedy of Aristophanes, which was known for its quick-wit, inventive language, and controversial political commentary, scholars viewed New Comedy as a degraded genre. The jokes are subtler, the language is milder, and the topics cover mundane elements of domestic life, rather than contemporary events.8 “New Comedy may in certain respects be described as the Old tamed down, but in products of genius, tameness is not generally considered a merit,” wrote A.W. Schlegel in Lectures on Dramatic Literature and Art.9

Until the 1950’s, the works of Menander were known through fragments of lines, quotes from ancient sources, and Roman adaptations. However, after more substantial remnants of his plays were found, critical opinion changed. A more comprehensive assessment of these plays shows that they often involve the same story

6 Walton and Arnott, Menander and the Making of Comedy, 35 7 Quoted by Sander M. Goldberg, The Making of Menander’s Comedy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980), v 8 Walton and Arnott, Menander and the Making of Comedy, 2-7 9 Quoted by Goldberg, The Making of Menander’s Comedy, v

2 of a young man who overcomes obstacles to get the girl he loves.10 While this formulaic plot leaves little room for diversity in terms of plot and character, modern scholars have found value investigating how Menander either repeats specific dramatic conventions or how he varies them. Ian Ruffell makes a point at noting that

Menander regularly adapts the stock characters of Middle Comedy into his own works, but individualizes them according to his own style.11 Likewise, Netta Zagagi remarks that valuing artistic merit based on originality is a modern tendency and that this quality was never particularly valued by ancient audiences, “on the contrary, variations on a given theme were far more likely to stimulate the imagination.”12 The reliance and repetition of tropes certainly was not lost on the ancient audience either.

Plutarch preserves an ancient anecdote in which a friend asks Menander, “The

Dionysian Festival is near, have you written your comedy?” To which Menander reportedly replied, “By the gods, I have written the comedy; for the plot is in order; but I just need to fit the lines to it.” (Plut. Mor. 347e).

The use of stock characters, in particular, is recognized to be an important component of Menander’s plays.13 In essence a stock character is a dramatic stereotype; characters of the same age, class, and occupation, thus, find themselves in similar circumstances and behave in similar ways. The very presentation of stock characters suggests familiarity to the audience. It is well known from vase paintings

10 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 9-10 11 Ian Ruffell, “Character types,” in The Cambridge Companion to Greek Comedy, ed. Martin Revermann, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 153 12 Netta Zagagi, The Comedy of Menander, (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1995), 15 13 R.L. Hunter, The New Comedy of Greece & Rome, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 59

3 and the writings of Julius Pollux that actors wore masks while performing Greek comedy. Each mask was designed to be used with a specific type of character. So while each character looked unique within the context of the play, he would resemble all other characters of the same stock type.14 Stock characters would also be discernable by the way they spoke; for instance, the cook calls himself the “cuisinier” and makes puns about chopping.15 Stock characters are central in the discussion of repetition and variation of dramatic conventions, because the presence of a stock character anticipates certain dramatic expectations, which the playwright can either follow or alter.

The scholarship about stock types in Menander enhances the discussion of the author’s characterization in terms of dramatic theory, but keeps the conversation entirely within the context of his plays. Several scholars have expanded this discussion through reference to Aristotle’s works on ethics and rhetoric. David

Konstan has discussed how Glykera’s pardon of Polemon fails to satisfy Aristotle’s definition of forgiveness. As Konstan argues, Polemon’s apology to Glykera does not address his moral flaw nor does he demonstrate a change in character. In turn,

Glykera does not return to Polemon because of this apology. Rather, the reconciliation of the couple is due to the revelation that Glykera, who had been serving as a courtesan, is actually a citizen. Glykera the courtesan, was not under the legal and social restrictions that bound citizen women; Glykera, the citizen woman, has no

14 Csapo, “Performing Comedy,” 60 15 E.W. Handley, “The Conventions of the Comic Stage and Their Exploitation by Menander,” in Oxford Readings in Menander, Plautus, and Terence, ed. Erich Segal, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 30

4 choice but to accept Polemon. Given her new social status she would be rejected by society for having had extramarital affairs. Konstan argues that this resolution is unsatisfactory from an Aristotelian point of view and suggests Menander’s indifference to repairing the relationship of the two characters in a manner pertinent to their disagreement.16

Susan Lape similarly remarks that Polemon’s apology to Glykera is not a proper apology in the Aristotelian sense. She adds, however, that, “the quasi-

Aristotelian characterization of his action serves the dramatic purpose of allowing him to escape the full, opprobrious connotations of his behavior.”17 She concludes that the presentation of Polemon’s misdeed as a mistake covers for Glykera’s lack of a formal pardon.18

R.L. Hunter notes ethical situations in Menander that reflect Aristotle’s ethical thinking. In the Perikeiromene, Menander presents the Aristotelian quandary of where responsibility lies in an action in the case of an action done in ignorance. Hunter notes that this question about voluntary and involuntary errors is a theme to which both

Aristotle and Menander often turn. He further notes an additional connection between

Aristotle and Menander through Terence’s Adelphoe, a Roman adaptation of

Menander: “Here we find many themes in common between Aristotle and Menander: the respective roles of shame and fear in education, whether young men should be given their head or not, the rejection of unbending dogmatism and the advocacy of a

16 David Konstan, “Between Courtesan and Wife,” Phoenix 41, no. 4 (1987): 133 17 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 179 18 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 179-80

5 flexible and open approach to human relationships.”19 Hunter asserts that it is easy to see how the Aristotelian notion that a virtue is the adherence to the mean between two extremes come into effect in this play. He suggests that it might be helpful to analyze

Menander’s plays in Aristotelian terms. He concludes that Peripatetic ethics and New

Comedy both developed around the same time and they both are concerned with how man functions in society. He urges that if one is reminiscent of the other it does not necessary mean that they are dependent upon each other, “but rather this similarity confirms the reality of the social and moral patterns which both assume.”20 In this way, Hunter asserts that the shared themes and presentations of morality between

Menander and Aristotle reflect the contemporary social view of ethics.21

Modern scholars were not the first to draw a connection between Menander and philosophy. Plutarch, in his Comparison of Aristophanes and Menander, writes

“and just as painters, when their eyes are tired, turn to the colors of the flowers and grass, so to philosophers and men of learning Menander is a rest from their concentrated and intense studies” (Plut. Mor. 854c). Konstan observes that Plutarch here seems to have in mind Aristotle’s assertion that good taste as a characteristic of comedy, reflects the virtue of temperance.22 When Aristotle is brought into the reading of Menander, there is a tendency to focus the discussion on ethics and

19 Hunter, The New Comedy, 151 20 Ibid. 21 Hunter, The New Comedy, 150-1 22 David Konstan, “Crossing Conceptual Worlds: Greek Comedy and Philosophy,” in The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Comedy, ed. Michael Fontaine and Adele C. Scafuro, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 292

6 morality in the plays. In this regard, the comparison between characterization in

Menander and Aristotle caters more to a discussion of philosophy than of theater.

Thus previous discussion of Menander’s characterization has either focused on characterization strictly within the tenure of dramatic conventions, or considered

Menander in the context of the ethical philosophy of his day, but with a focus on the philosophy rather than the drama. I explore the area between these two discussions.

My question then is how does characterization in Menander’s plays compare to ideas about characterization in the works of ancient philosophers strictly as a literary device?

The Study of Characterization

Before I continue I want to elaborate on what I mean by “characterization.”

The term itself is difficult to define because the purpose and function of character changes not only throughout different genres, but also over time. As such, modern dramaturgy often is more compelled to depict characters with a more rounded internal psychology than ancient drama, which is more concerned with exploring normative ethics.23 Ian Ruffell asserts that “such a stance draws heavily on Aristotelian ideas of

êthos and reacts against psychoanalysis.”24 In this sense, it is useful to compare these two genres in terms of their characterization, because both approach character with similar objectives.

23 Ian Ruffell, “Character types,” 166 24 Ibid.

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Ancient and modern scholars have distinguished two broad techniques of characterization: direct and indirect.25 Koen De Temmerman distinguishes the two techniques: “Whereas the former describe character explicitly through overt evaluation or the attribution of characteristics and epithets, the latter leave the characteristics themselves implicit and merely provide attributes from which they can (and should) be inferred.26 De Temmerman, however, provides a caveat that direct characterization does not automatically exclude inference on the part of the reader, but rather social and cultural contexts must usually be considered.27 Furthermore, it is necessary to acknowledge that there are various techniques within the category of indirect characterization itself.28

The types of indirect characterization, because their general technique is based on implication, generally rely on cultural assumptions and associations. For example, one type of indirect characterization is established through comparison or paradigm.

According to ancient writers comparison involves juxtaposition with objects and animals, while paradigm involves historical, mythical, or literary persons. Such a method of characterization was highly dependent upon the contemporary audience’s ideas about the specific comparandum in use.29

Another indirect technique is what De Temmerman calls metonymical characterization. According to ancient rhetorical theory metonymic characterization

25 Koen De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 29 26 Ibid. 27 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 30 28 Ibid. 29 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 34

8 relies upon six techniques: emotion, group membership, action, speech, appearance, and setting. Emotion, as a form of metonymical characterization, is distinct from

êthos, permanent characteristics, and is classified as pathos, temporary feelings, which are more easily influenced than êthos. This distinction is important to note, because

êthos is more an aspect of character than of characterization. Group association is subdivided into different categories: macro-social group (fatherland/city), micro-social group (birth/ social station/ parents/ wealth), and educated-intellectual peer group

(upbringing/education). Like the metaphorical methods of characterization, these group associations depend upon contemporaneous biases and may imply moral evaluations. Actions as a means of characterization reflects the ethical theory that

êthos is deductive from observable praxis. Speech also constructs character either through the representation of one character through the words of another or the speaker’s depiction of himself. Physical appearance as an indication of character is related to the ancient study of physiognomy. Physical appearance has the potential to depict both the êthos and pathos of a character, depending on whether such an appearance suggests either a persistent or temporary personal quality. Lastly, setting can be important for characterization, although it is scarcely contemplated in ancient rhetorical theory, despite being considered one of the basic narrative components.

Setting differs from the macro-social group associations in that a place is relevant to the latter as part of the character’s essence, whence he comes, whereas the former considers a place in regards to the character’s current location, where he is; place in terms of macro-social group association is stagnate for a character, but in terms of

9 setting place varies for a character relative to the current narrative situation. De

Temmerman, however, additionally notes that setting has the ability to characterize through similarity, and as such functions as metaphorical characterization. Therefore, setting as a technique for characterization shares qualities of both metaphorical and metonymical characterization.30

De Temmerman also acknowledges another more overt technique for characterization, name-giving and antonomasia. Name-giving practices characterization through the meaning of a character’s name, while he defines antonomasia as “the substitution of a proper name by a word or paraphrase.”31 Name- giving and antonomasia distinguish themselves as a characterization technique by being direct statements of character, which are made by a title, rather than explicit description of characteristics.32

Menander practices all of these techniques in his creation of characters. In the

Dyskolos and Samia there are examples, which demonstrate how Menander uses these methods of characterization.

Name-giving is fairly common as a means of characterization in New Comedy, as specific names were frequently used for individual stock types.33 These stock names typically denote that a character belongs to a certain social class and these designations are based on the roots of the name.34 For instance, a Kallippides would

30 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 36-41 31 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 33 32 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 33-4 33 Ruffell, “Character types,” 148 34 Csapo, “Performing Comedy,” 60

10 be a rich man, because the –ippides ending, which comes from the word ἵππος, meaning “horse,” implies that he belongs to the upper-class. The name Gorgias, from the word γεωργός, which means “farmer,” typically is ascribed to a rustic character.

Likewise, often a young man will be named Moschion, coming from the word μοσχίον which means “little calf,” because of his youth and uncontrolled passions.35

There are several ways that Menander uses direct characterization. One way is by explicit statement of character as the author, such as the case with the Dyskolos, where Menander tells the audience Knemon’s character through the title. Direct characterization, however, can also be found within the context of the play either by characters proclaiming the characteristics of others, such as when Pan calls Knemon

δύσκολος (7), or self-identification of character, such as when Knemon calls himself

δύσκολος (747). Menander also provides examples of antonomasia, substitution of a proper name by a word or paraphrase,36 like when Getas calls Knemon a “gray-haired viper” (ἔχις πολιὸς, 480).

Metaphorical characterization is not too common in Menander, as might be expected considering New Comedy typically refrains from referencing specific people.37 There are, however, still some instances in which Menander uses metaphorical characterization. Knemon compares the sacrificers at the shrine to

“man-eating beasts” (ἀνδροφόνα θηρί’, 481). There are also some instances in which

35 Ibid. 36 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 33 37 Walton and Arnott, Menander and the Making of Comedy, 3

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Menander uses paradigm, like when Nikeratos compares Moschion to Thyestes,

Oedipus, and Tereus (667-8J).

Likewise, Menander practices the various methods of metonymical characterization. Emotion is regularly used by Menander as part of his characterization. For instance, Moschion is often shown to be afraid or Knemon is frequently portrayed as angry.

Group association as a form of characterization comes in three forms: the macro-social group, the micro-social group, and the educated-intellectual group. The macro-social group, which relates to fatherland and city, can be seen in the title of the

Samia and throughout the play when Chrysis is referred to as the Samian woman. The aspects from the micro-social group, which are noble birth, social station, parentage, and wealth, are frequently featured in both the Dyskolos and Samia. Some examples include Sostratos mentioning his father is Kallippides (773), Moschion mentioning his public offices and services (22-5J), Moschion being Demeas’ adopted son (518J), and

Gorgias mentioning that he is poor (296). The educated-intellectual peer group, which consists of one’s upbringing and education, is also mentioned by Moschion in the prologue (16J).

According to ethical theory actions are an observable presentation of êthos. As it might be assumed, as a common element of drama, actions as a type of metonymical characterization occur often in Menander’s plays, for instance when Knemon beats slaves (111 and 515) or when Moschion pretends to be a soldier (863J).

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Speech also is a frequent type of characterization in Menander, as would be expected in drama. Relevant examples include when Knemon curses (108), when he says “perhaps” (713, 730, and 746), or when Demeas refers to himself in the second person (522J).

Physical appearance as a form of characterization is a little harder to discern from a text, but it was definitely an important aspect of the dramatic presentation of

Menander’s plays. The use of masks was directly related to characterization and would have been a device for the audience to presume aspects of character.38 The use of props would also contribute to characterization through appearance.

The last type of characterization is setting. Menander practices both metonymical and metaphorical characterization by setting. For instance, the rural location of the Dyskolos plays a metonymical role in the characterization of Knemon

(129-30), but also the description of the land as being difficult and barren (3-4) characterizes Knemon through metaphor.39

As a genre New Comedy relied on stock types, and so they play an essentially relevant role in understanding characterization in Menander.40 E.W. Handley distinguishes three types of conventions which contribute to the establishment of stock types: language (vocabulary, phrasing, meter), theatrical performance (masks, costumes, props), and representation of real life (details of characters’ lives, locations, time-settings).41 These conventions are among the various types of dramatic

38 Ruffell, “Character Types,” 150 39 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 134 40 Hunter, The New Comedy, 59 41 Handley, “The Conventions of the Comic Stage,” 28-9

13 techniques that De Temmerman acknowledges are part of metonymical characterization: respectively, speech, appearance, and group association and setting.

The use of stock types provides some of the implicit elements of character, which are part of indirect characterization. Yet, while Menander uses stock characters, he does not strictly adhere to all their dramatic expectations, but relies on variation. As Ian

Ruffell states, “It seems that Menander largely plays against expectations – not so much to reverse expectations as to enrich characterization both of the typical characters themselves and those with whom they are interacting.”42 Menander does not only emphasize these social attributes in his presentation of characters, but focuses heavily on their emotions as well. In fact, much of the individuality of his characters comes from their unique emotional traits.43 Furthermore, while the basic structure of

Menander’s plots might be formulaic, his dramatic variation often relies upon differing behaviors and reactions among stock types. “In Menandrean comedy it is not so much what happens that matters, but how.”44 It is in his variations from dramatic conventions, that Menander exhibits the other techniques of metonymical characterization: emotion and action.

My intention is to analyze how Menander characterizes six characters in the

Dyskolos and Samia, four from the former play and two from the latter; that is, how he demonstrates the behaviors of his characters are affected by their social traits and emotions. I will then compare Menander’s style of characterization to characterization

42 Ruffell, “Character types,” 153 43 A.W. Gomme and F.H. Sandbach, Menander: A Commentary, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1973), 25 44 Handley, “The Conventions of the Comic Stage,” 41

14 as presented by ancient philosophers. The philosophers I will use for comparison are

Plato, Aristotle, and Theophrastus. As a student, Menander studied at the Lyceum under Theophrastus, who was a student of Aristotle, who was a student of Plato.45

Besides this historical connection, the works of these authors themselves lend to comparison. As noted, authors have associated Menander with the philosophy of

Aristotle for over a thousand years. Theophrastus’ Characters provides a list of various stock types that seem dramatic in nature and presentation. Lastly, the dialogues of Plato are recognized for their dramatic qualities.46 Menander is thus connected to these philosophers through biography and through an interest in human character.

The method of my comparison will be through a systematic evaluation of character. I will identify key characteristics of the relevant characters from

Menander’s plays. These characteristics will include attributes relating to êthos, consistent emotional and behavioral temperaments, as well as accidental attributes, such as age and social class. I will demonstrate the various ways in which Menander portrays these characteristics, such as through actions, speech, or emotional displays.

After demonstrating how Menander portrays these characteristics, I will observe whether these same characteristics are discussed by any of the three philosophers and compare how the philosophers’ presentation of character compares to Menander’s.

45 T.B.L. Webster, Studies in Menander, (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1960), 4 46 Richard Hunter, Plato and the Traditions of Ancient Literature, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 3

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I want to emphasize that my thesis is strictly a comparison of characterization as it appears in the works of Menander and these philosophers and I am not asserting that Menander is using these philosophical texts as precedent for characterization. I intend to show that there are similarities in their styles of characterization, but also differences. In short, the goal of this thesis is to discuss characterization in Menander and to compare to ideas about characterization in the philosophers.

Characterization in Philosophy

Before I move onto characterization in Menander, it would be beneficial to develop an idea of characterization in the philosophers. The relevant discussions appear in Book VIII and the beginning of Book IX of Plato’s Republic, Theophrastus’

Characters, and Books III and IV of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics and Book II of the Rhetoric.

De Temmerman asserts that character typification is an important feature in ancient ethical philosophy and rhetoric as well as the ancient novel. He states that

Aristotle, in his ethical works, offers “the first systematic treatment of typified characters.”47 In the Nicomachean Ethics character is presented as being dependent upon a system of virtues and vices. In this sense, there is an obvious connection being made between character and morality, with certain types of character being presented as morally superior. Characterization in ethical philosophy is presented through

47 De Temmerman, “Where Philosophy and Rhetoric Meet: Character Typification in the Greek Novel,” in Philosophical Presences in the Ancient Novel, ed. J.R. Morgan and Meriel Jones, (Gronigen: Barkhuis; Gronigen University Library, 2007), 86

16 human emotions and behaviors, rather than socially based attributes. However, the ancient philosophers too noted the social dimension of character. “In ancient rhetoric too, characterization was more a matter of conforming to (often morally significant) ready-made stock types than of psychological individuation.”48 De Temmerman supports the notion that stock types are directly related to characterization, but additionally notes that these stereotypes may be imbued with ethical or moral value.

He comments that in Aristotle’s Rhetoric characterization logically follows from an orator’s need to address a certain character type.49 Although the Rhetoric is not explicitly a work of ethical philosophy, characterization of this sort is still dependent upon morality.

De Temmerman also notes the connection between morality and characterization based upon stock types in Theophrastus’ Characters. The

Characters, while a work dealing with stock types, is greatly indebted to Aristotle’s ethical works.50 The exact purpose of Theophrastus’ work is debated among scholars.

However, it is agreed that the Characters cannot have been intended as a full exploration of ethical philosophy, lacking, as it does, virtuous characters and any analysis of the connection between character and behavior.51 The Characters seems to have been written as a rhetorical guide for students to identify and understand

48 De Temmerman, “Where Philosophy and Rhetoric Meet,” 87 49 Ibid. 50 De Temmerman, “Where Philosophy and Rhetoric Meet,” 86 51 Jeffrey Rusten, trans. and ed. “Characters,” by Theophrastus, in Theophrastus: Characters, Herodas: Mimes, Cercidas and the Choliambic Poets, ed. and trans. Jeffrey Rusten, et al. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993), 19-20

17 character.52 Theophrastus seems interested in how his characters interact with society and how they affect their fellow citizens.

In the Ethics, Aristotle considers happiness and what it means to be happy.

Since humans are distinct from other animals in rationality, the highest “Good” would be an action most in accordance with virtue, being the goodness of rationality. There are a few important premises on which he bases his argument. First, the soul has two parts: the rational and the irrational. The irrational soul has vegetative and appetitive aspects to it. The vegetative aspect, which is concerned with nourishment and growth, is purely instinctual and has no role in virtue. The appetitive aspect of soul, however, rules one’s impulses and desires. The rational part of the soul, then is responsible for maintaining these impulses. Next, Aristotle distinguishes between intellectual and moral virtues; the former are virtues which can be learnt through instruction, but the latter virtues can only be learned through practice. He defines moral virtue as a settled disposition (ἓξις προαιρετική, 1107a) observant to the mean of two extremes relative to us, which would be determinable by any prudent man (φρόνιμος, 1107a). As he defines it, a moral virtue is a type of character; it is a habit (ἤθος, 1103a) in regards to actions and feelings. While all moral virtues are character types, the reverse is not true. Aristotle’s definition of moral virtue as a mean between two extremes, implies that for every virtuous character, there are two additional unvirtuous characters.

Aristotle provides one last stipulation before discussing the different virtues, that in

52 D.J. Furley, “The Purpose of Theophrastus’ Characters.” Symbolae Osloenses 30, no. 1 (1953): 60

18 order for an action to be judged in regards to virtue, it must be done by choice; it must be done voluntarily and willingly.

In Books III and IV of the Ethics, Aristotle systematically demonstrates his definition by presenting different virtues and the qualities to which they are the means, along with the excessive and deficient characters that accompany each virtue. It is interesting to note that he provides certain scenarios in which these virtues apply. For instance, courage is a virtue that is concerned with fear and confidence. The deficiency of courage is considered cowardice, while the excess is recklessness. Therefore, as a virtue, courage is in the middle between these two extremes. Often a man can be courageous in battle. Aristotle, however, recognizes that bravery in battle is not necessarily true courage, because there are penalties for cowardice, and so often these acts of bravery are not done voluntarily. Likewise, some acts, done out of passion, resemble courage, like animals charging hunters or adulterers proceeding boldly. Yet such actions are done out of appetite and not for the sake of courage as its own pursuit, and so they cannot be called courage. Furthermore, anyone who faces danger bravely, but is unaware of the severity of the danger, cannot be said to have courage, because his ignorance disqualifies his bravery from being voluntary (1106b-9b).

Aristotle describes temperance as being related to pleasure and pain; overindulgence is the excess, while the deficiency is rather uncommon. Aristotle sees licentiousness in adults and the naughtiness of children to be the primary examples of the excess in relation to temperance, whereas the virtue itself is a result of a disciplined participation in pleasures. Overindulgence is a more voluntary vice than

19 cowardice, because it is not rooted in a basic instinct for survival, but rather, by its nature, is participating in something beyond necessity. As for the rare instances of a deficiency of pleasure, a person with such quality is unable to find pleasure in things which he ought, though Aristotle has no designated term for such a person (1117b-9b).

Aristotle considers courage and temperance to be the two major virtues, but also denotes several lesser virtues. These include virtues such as liberality, honesty, friendliness, and gentleness. He describes these lesser virtues and their associated behaviors and corresponding vices. Of these lesser virtues, friendliness and gentleness and their corresponding vices will be relevant in comparison with Menander. Aristotle concludes his survey of virtue with an analysis of the ultimate virtue, justice. Justice is defined as taking the appropriate course of action; by its nature it is the mean between two extremes, which is what qualified all the other virtues. In this way, the practice of virtue is also the practice of justice (1129a-30a).

In the Ethics every character type falls onto a spectrum of morality, in which some characters are inherently virtuous and others are inherently defective. Character is revealed through deliberate choice. The only actions that reveal character are the ones that are purposely made by the person. This analysis appears to ignore social aspects of character. However, a normative social status has been assumed – the male citizen. In his definition of moral virtue, Aristotle qualifies the statement that it is a mean by saying “relative to us” (πρὸς ἡμᾶς, 1107a). These virtues and vices describe generic character types, rather than individuals.53

53 Susan Sauvé Meyer, Aristotle on Moral Responsibility (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 1993), 30

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In the Ethics Aristotle’s analysis of characterization focuses on the internal foundation of character, rather than the resulting behavior.54 He takes a different approach in Book II of the Rhetoric. His analysis there distinguishes two separate categories: emotions and social attributes, which Aristotle calls ages and fortunes (τὰς

ἡλικίας καὶ τὰς τύχας, 1388b).

He describes each emotion first with a short definition. Then he offers examples of circumstances that cause a person to experience such an emotion, followed by examples of the types of people who instigate that emotional state. For instance, he defines anger as desire for revenge, accompanied by pain, for a real or apparent undeserved slight, which affects the man himself or his loved ones (1378a).

He then says that a person can become angry if he is denied something which he wants or needs, like a thirsty man being denied water. Furthermore, when a person is in need, he is easily angered when a person makes light of his suffering. Additionally, men can become angry when the event which pains them happens contrary to their expectations. These are the conditions under which a person feels angry (1379a).

Aristotle also provides examples of people with whom a person is angry. Such people include those who mock the person or his loved ones, those who speak poorly of something which the person loves, those who treat the person poorly if they are inferior, and those who do not realize that they are hurting the person (1379a-1380a).

This is the method he uses for characterization in regards to emotions and repeats for calmness, friendship, enmity, fear, confidence, shame, favor, pity,

54 De Temmerman, “Where Philosophy and Rhetoric Meet,” 87

21 indignation, envy, and jealousy. Although many of these emotions are similar to virtues and vices he describes in the Ethics, he is not presenting them as ethical philosophy, but rather is just presenting them as observations of their conditions and behaviors. Aristotle’s analysis of the emotions of anger, friendship, fear, and shame will be relevant to the discussion of character in Menander.

The next section of the Rhetoric is devoted to attributes dealing with age and fortune (1388b). Since these attributes are accidental qualities rather than consequential qualities, Aristotle does not focus on the conditions which cause these attributes, but rather focuses exclusively on the behaviors associated.

Aristotle separates age into three distinct phases of life: youth, old age, and prime of life. He first describes young men and gives various examples of their personalities and behaviors. The young man has little control of his passions and appetites; his passions are easily triggered, but are not persistent. He is ambitious and eager and maintains unbroken optimism. He is an idealist and wants to do what he believes is noble, rather than what is realistic or in his best interest. In general, his mistakes are resultant of acting in excess (1389a-b).

Meanwhile, the old man, in many regards, acts as the reverse of the young. He is rather pessimistic and lacks confidence and vigor. He often qualifies his speech with “perhaps” and “maybe” (ἴσως καὶ τάχα, 1389b). He is ill-tempered and grumpy and is weak in his emotions. He desires nothing more than that which is necessary and is extremely frugal with his money. He is overly found of himself and cares more for his own interests than nobility. His appetites are not easily evoked, but rather he is

22 moved by profit, which makes his character rather calculating. Lastly, he is prone to pity, on account of his feebleness and fragility (1389b-1390a).

Aristotle does not give much detail about the man in his prime, but simply describes him as having qualities which are intermediate between the young and old men. He says that during this time a man possesses all the advantages of both youth and old age and deficiencies and excesses are replaced by moderation. He reasons that in his prime, man has the energy and optimism of youth, but the experience and expedience of old age (1390a-b).

Aristotle divides fortune into three categories: birth, wealth, and power. He limits his discussion of fortune by only describing those with good fortune, so he ignores those born in families of no repute, with little wealth, and with little political influence. The man with good birth is characterized by being ambitious, desiring to add on to the reputation of his ancestors. He is also rather foolish and not necessarily noble, for he inherited his advantages, rather than earned them for himself (1390b).

The wealthy man is often arrogant, on account of his wealth, for he considers wealth to be a great good, of which he has much. Additionally he indulges in luxury and is unaware of the fact that others lack his same advantages. He also believes himself worthy of power and authority, since he believes that wealth is what makes one fit to rule. Aristotle also notes that there is a difference in character between those who were born rich and those who came into wealth later in life, the latter being more prone to vices due to inexperience and lack of education (1391a). The last type man of fortune is the man with power. This man is more ambitious and virile than the rich

23 man and his endeavors are more serious and he does them with greater intensity.

Likewise, if he commits a crime it will be one that is more severe (1391a-b).

While the descriptions of the emotions are accompanied by a psychological evaluation of their origin, overall the discussion of character in the Rhetoric is directed by anecdotal illustrations. These illustrations, however, are akin to drama, because they imagine individuals acting on the basis of character.

Theophrastus’ Characters provides another example of character presented through anecdote. The structure of the Characters is straightforward. Each chapter is about some specific personality and offers examples of the behaviors typical of a person with such a personality. Most of the chapters begin with a definition of the personality. However, as Jeff Rusten notes, these definitions come from other sources, such as Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics and Eudemian Ethics, not from

Theophrastus himself.55

What he lacks in definitions and psychological explanations, he compensates for with vivid description of behavior. The result is that his characters in themselves are rather dramatic. Each description is composed of small scenes of action and conflict caused by the characters and it is not difficult to imagine them appearing within the context of a play. Of the Theophrastus’ thirty different characters, three are relevant to the characters in the Dyskolos and Samia: Αὐθαδεία (“grouchiness,” character fifteen), Ἀπιστία (“mistrust,” character eighteen), and Δειλία (“cowardice,” character twenty-five).

55 Rusten, “Characters,” 53

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Plato’s analysis of character appears in Books VIII and IX of the Republic

(543a-592b). There Plato uses characters as representations of different systems of governance, which in turn he relates to different types of souls. The discussion is schematized. There is a general sequence of events with a pattern to them. Plato begins with a type of constitution, reflected in a father and a son. Various influences and experiences specific to that particular constitution alter the son’s personality. The son comes to represent a new system of government. For instance, the oligarch is miserly and illiberal. His son, denied his father’s generosity, is neglected a proper education. The son comes into contact with the lower-classes of the city, whom Plato calls the “drones.” These drones urge the son to indulge in his desires and to spend his money carelessly. Thus the son develops the democratic soul, which has little control over his passions. This degradation of the soul begins with the aristocratic type followed by the timocratic, then the oligarchic, then the democratic until there is the son who represents tyranny, or total corruption. Of these constitutions, the oligarchic, democratic, and tyrannical have possible relevance for Menander.

Of particular interest is Plato’s emphasis on causation in the development of character. Each character undergoes three phases of character development: he inherits the traits of his father; he is influenced by society; he develops his own unique traits. There is an explicit schematization of the process, by which a character becomes such as he is. Plato extends his examination of the development of character, by exploring the psychological implications of the personality types. In Book IV, he had established that the soul consists of three parts: the logical, the emotional, and the

25 appetitive (436a-b). The appetitive part of the soul is broken down into two subcategories: necessary appetites and unnecessary appetites. In Plato’s model, the logical part of the soul is the best, then the emotional, then the appetitive, with necessary appetites being better than unnecessary ones. Each variety of character is defined by which part of the soul the person values most.

The relation between these characters and the different parts of the soul, which have different moral value, implies a hierarchy of character. In fact, it seems to be one of Plato’s efforts to distinguish certain characters as being objectively superior to others, as are different constitutions.

Certain elements of The Republic seem to lend themselves well to a theatrical interpretation.56 The characters do not exist in a vacuum, but are presented within the context of their family and society. Furthermore, Plato provides a series of mini-plots in which his characters play roles. Although his characters represent anthropomorphized constitutions, Plato adds a dimension of realism that makes his characters seem believable by presenting them in the context of a story.

For example, the man with the timocratic soul has some interest in the arts, but is not skilled in practicing them. He is severe towards slaves, but civil towards free men and reverent towards authority. He believes that military acumen should determine political power and considers physical and athletic prowess to be the more

56 Cf. Nikos G. Charalabopoulos, Platonic Drama and Its Ancient Reception (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 19, who argues that “features of [Plato’s] dialogues point to an underlying dialectics with dramatic poetry, exemplified by comment on and appropriation of dramatic techniques and conventions.”

26 important than intellect. Also, as a child he would not care for materialism, but as he grows up he accumulates and hoards his wealth (549a-b).

The formation of the oligarchic soul appears in a domestic vignette. The oligarchic man at first emulates the timocratic man, until he sees his father suffer some great misfortune and loss of his wealth, power, citizenship, or life. This catastrophic event reroutes the son’s pursuit of power and honor to a strict pursuit of wealth. He no longer cares for any knowledge or art unless it can be used to help him profit. He becomes extremely frugal and neglects care for himself. Furthermore, due to his lack of education, the only restraint he has over his criminal desires comes from anxiety that someone would enact the same injustices upon him, but not from an understanding of morality. The result is that in the mind of the public he seems virtuous, but in actuality this appearance of decency is merely a façade. Lastly, his severe frugality will keeps him from spending money on public expenses or on acts of goodwill (554a-555a).

Plato asserts that the transition from the oligarchic constitution to the democratic constitution would happen by way of a revolt among the lower-class, unhappy with the city being run by the wealthy citizens. The type of man whose soul corresponds with this system of government is most prominently distinct in his sense of liberty. Having been raised by the oligarchic father, and subsequently having been neglected in many of his wants and desires, the democratic man pursues all of his wishes, being urged by outside influences. However, he still retains some of the restraint inherited by his father, and so his most vile and unlawful impulses are kept in

27 check. These two parts of himself, unbridled desire and miserly restraint, wage a constant war within his soul and there is no consistency in his lifestyle. Day by day according to his whim, he fasts or gorges; gets drunk or keeps sober; zealously works or is lazy; studies philosophy or puts off learning altogether. Essentially he lives his life without any order and follows his inclinations, which sometimes might be good and other times bad (559d-561e).

Plato’s brand of characterization heavily emphasizes the influential factors, which is relevant to Menander’s presentation of characters interacting with and impacting each other. Within the context of the mini-episodes describing the formation of the types of souls, two types of relationships are placed in the spotlight: young men and their fathers, young men and their peers. Plato seems to distinguish these relationships as especially formative of character. There is also some demographical and sociological information ascribed to certain characters. While the main characters he presents belong to the upper-class, he also describes under what conditions the working-class, paupers, and criminals arise. Plato investigates the origins of character more than the other philosophers.

Aristotle, Theophrastus, and Plato investigate the nature of character in different ways. Overall the style of characterization in these works of philosophy represents a variety of different manners in which character is explored: emotions, social attributes, psychology, social interactions, etc., which allows for a full spectrum of character presentation. There is also an overall commonality among these philosophers in that all of the characters that they describe are citizen males. This is

28 apparent in the descriptions of the characters in the Ethics57, the Rhetoric58, the

Characters59, and the Republic.

57 Rackham, trans. and ed. The Nicomachean Ethics, by Aristotle (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), xix 58 Edward W. Clayton, “The Audience for Aristotle’s Rhetoric,” Rhetorica: A Journal of the History of Rhetoric 22, no. 2, (2004): 198-9 59 Ivo Volt, “Not Valuing Other: Reflections of Social Cohesions in the Characters of Theophrastus,” In Valuing Others in Classical Antiquity, ed. Ralph M. Rosen and Ineke Sluiter (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 304

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Chapter 2: Character through Solitude and Friendship An Analysis of the Dyskolos

The Dyskolos in History and Scholarship

To this date the Dyskolos remains the only play by Menander that we have in its entirety, or relatively so, since nine lines are totally missing and about twenty others are damaged beyond any repair.60 In the late 1950’s the Bodmer papyrus was discovered as part of the collection of the Swiss bibliophile, Martin Bodmer.61 This papyrus codex, which dates back to the third century CE, contained the text for the

Dyskolos, along with two other plays: the Samia and the Aspis.62 Until this play was published in 1959, modern scholars only knew Menander’s works through quotations by ancient authors and Latin adaptations of his plays, and so the Dyskolos was the modern world’s first direct encounter with a full play by Menander.63 We know some information about the historical context of the play through ancient sources. It was originally performed in 316 BCE at the Lenaian festival, where it won first prize. At the time, Menander was in his mid-twenties and had only begun his dramatic career about five years before.64 It is fortuitous that the only complete play of Menander that

60 W.G. Arnott, trans. and ed. “Dyskolos,” by Menander, in Menander I (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979), 178 61 Walton and Arnott, Menander and the Making of Comedy, 39 62 Nervegna, Menander in Antiquity, 220 63 Maurice Balme, trans. and ed. Plays and Fragments, by Menander (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), xxxi 64 Arnott, “Dyskolos,” 179

30 we have today is one of the greatest successes of his career and both of these factors make it the essential play for studying the playwright.

Naturally, scholarship on the characters of the Dyskolos tends to focus primarily on the title character Knemon. Sostratos might be the hero, but it would be misleading to call him the main character. It is typical of New Comedy that the plot revolves around the blocking figure, rather than the hero, who is often not a particularly interesting character.65 In the dramatic context of the play, Knemon is essential. As Sander Goldberg says, “Approaching Knemon is both the play’s chief source of humour and its basic structural device.”66 In addition to being relevant to literary analysis, Knemon, as a working farmer, is relevant to an understanding of ancient Athenian society. A year before the Dyskolos was originally performed, a pro-

Macedonian regent, Demetrius of Phalerum, had been given authority over the city.67

The rule of Demetrius of Phalerum caused political turbulence in Athens through policies which exacerbated the disparity between rich and poor68 and scrutinized the private lives of citizens.69 Although New Comedy has generally been considered apolitical,70 the chronology of the play’s production and the social status of its main character have encouraged some scholars to use the play as a means of investigating political topicality during the Macedonian hegemony.

65 Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957), 44 66 Goldberg, The Making of Menander’s comedy, 74 67 Arnott, “Dyskolos,” xviii 68 Zagagi, The Comedy of Menander, 185 69 Nervegna, Menander in Antiquity, 42 70 Walton and Arnott, Menander and the Making of Comedy, 5

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Susan Lape, for instance, argues that the Dyskolos promotes an idealistic, egalitarian society for Athens. She argues that the play “moves from a sterile and fragmented social order to an inclusive and fecund comic community.”71 Pan begins the play by describing Phyle, where the Dyskolos takes place, as an infertile and toilsome land and Knemon’s household as broken and dysfunctional. The condition of the land and Knemon’s family is presented as a reflection of Knemon’s character; his desire to be a recluse causes him to become obsessed with physical boundaries. In his attempt to separate himself from society, Knemon neglects his family and even avoids cultivating parts of his land that are too near the main road. On the other hand, there is

Sostratos, whose success relies upon his willingness to help cultivate the land; the community is reunited through agriculture. The weddings at the end of the play present the conditions necessary for a more egalitarian society; rich and poor and city and country are joined together in way that promotes a social order which overcomes economic differences. Lape argues that the equality demonstrated in the Dyskolos presents an idealistic representation of dramatic society, rather than the historic democracy known to the Athenians, which excluded roughly ninety percent of the population. She further contrasts the social reality of the historic democracy with the social reality during the production of the Dyskolos, when there was a wealth requirement to be entitled to full citizenship. This oligarchic rule promoted the notion that membership in the political community should be dependent upon wealth, rather than birth.

71 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 134

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The Dyskolos, however, challenges this oligarchic belief by discounting the importance of wealth. In the play, moral standards are equal among all men and the human condition is portrayed as inherently egalitarian. Thus, the significance of wealth is undermined and the emphasis is placed upon classless social relations.

While the two marriages that end the play, between wealthy and much less wealthy families, favor democratic political membership, they represent this notion outside traditional institutions of political participation. Lape continues, “The play offers an argument against the use of one form of inequality – economic status – to determine social and political membership where there are deep-seated inequalities in status and gender.”72 Lape asserts that it is therefore a short step to infer that other types of inequality are socially arbitrary. For example, the play may blur the distinction between slaves and freemen, demonstrated through Gorgias treating Daos as family.

The celebration before the marriage also seems to obscure the normative distinctions between both freemen and slaves and men and women. She notes, however, that not everyone is effortlessly unified into this inclusive society. In the last scene Knemon, while he has been neutralized, has not been socialized. The two slaves, whom

Knemon had earlier abused, subject him to the sorts of social customs he had previously rejected. Lape recognizes that one perspective would be that this scene demonstrates the extremism of the egalitarian view; the slaves’ ability to violate the personal liberty of a citizen suggests that economic equality has now manifested itself in the loss of class distinctions. She sees this as an addition of self-criticism to the

72 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 135

33 egalitarian ideology; that in the society’s inclusivity it must, ironically, exclude certain segments of society. In this way, egalitarian democracy is shown to be a necessary, but inherently flawed solution to social disorder.73 Lape’s argument focuses partially on the nature of Knemon’s character, especially as the antithesis of social inclusivity.

Yet, in this manner, her focus is not on Knemon’s character in itself, but its relation to the social order; his character is understood as part of a larger social schema. Her argument that this play promotes an egalitarian ideology is defended through the behaviors of the characters, but is dependent upon the contemporary social context.

William Owens also investigates the political criticisms of the Dyskolos, which he argues favor an oligarchic social construction and endorses the regimen of

Demetrius of Phalerum. He begins by emphasizing the importance of the wealth requirement in Athens during this time, which he claims was a major concern for the contemporary Athenians and would have been a great interest for those watching the play. Based on explicit statements of wealth and other contextual clues in the play,

Owens asserts that Sostratos and his family were wealthy. While Knemon and

Gorgias would have been significantly poorer, they would have met the wealth requirements to be citizens. Thus, while the play presents marriages between rich and poor, these marriages would still only occur between citizens. Menander ignores the disenfranchised class of Athenians. He argues that the three main characters,

Sostratos, Gorgias, and Knemon, represent different elements in Athenian society. He begins by asserting that Sostratos represents Demetrius of Phalerum, whom Menander

73 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 134-6

34 implies was a caring aristocrat. Sostratos’ behavior and character disprove Gorgias’ prejudices, that aristocrats were not to be trusted. Gorgias, as a poor man, has certain fears that Sostratos, as an aristocrat, will take advantage of his family. Sostratos, however, is able to demonstrate that his intentions are innocent and wins Gorgias’ support.

Despite his good-nature, Sostratos is not heroic; his accomplishments and his ability to marry the girl occur only through the assistance of Gorgias. Owens concludes that by presenting Sostratos as honorable, but comedic and not as effective as his poorer counterparts, Menander is allowing his audience to view Demetrius of

Phalerum in a disarming way.

Owens also argues that Gorgias and Knemon reflect two versions of the dēmos.

Gorgias represents the dēmos as decent and industrious. Although he and Sostratos are friends, he is shown to be the more favorable and would have been sympathetic to the democratic audience. Knemon, on the other hand, represents the antisocial qualities of the democrats. Through his irascible and boorish nature, Knemon is characterized similarly to the stereotyped old democrats in Aristophanes. Owens notes, however, that Knemon, in his willful absence from political activity, differs from Aristophanes’ old democrats, but does resemble another aristocratic stereotype of the dēmos, the apragmōn, the poor farmer. The poor farmer represented an aristocratic ideal for the dēmos. He was too preoccupied with his labor to participate in politics and aimed for self-sufficiency. Knemon then represents two different aristocratic perceptions of the dēmos. Through his angry outbursts, Knemon is shown

35 to be irrational and manic; he is violent, stubborn, and abusive. Owens suggests that the dramatization of Knemon’s anger represents the trial of Phocion, the former oligarch before Demetrius who was killed by the Athenian dēmos. Knemon’s uncontrollable and irrational anger criticizes the inherent violence of the mob mentality found in the dēmos.

Yet, Knemon is not entirely unlikeable and in his soliloquy he explains the reasoning of his lifestyle and his pursuit of self-sufficiency in a sympathetic manner.

His desire for self-sufficiency, however, is what left him helpless in the well. In this way, Menander issued a political warning to the dēmos through Knemon; the traditional democratic virtue of autonomia did not belong to this new social order.

Owens concludes that while the Dyskolos was written in such a way to gain democratic sympathies, it does not promote a democratic resurgence. Instead the play emphasizes the mutual relationship between the aristocrats and non-aristocrats in a manner that endorses the authority of the former and praises the latter, while also reprimanding some of their traits.74 Owens’ argument focuses on the political implications of the play and, for the most part, is made through comparing thematic elements of the play and Athenian society; characterization, however, plays into some of these thematic elements. The characterization of Sostratos as noble, but wimpy, of

Gorgias as decent and industrious, and of Knemon as irascible and self-sufficient are crucial in understanding the social commentary of the play, but the social context is necessary in order to give these characterizations any relevance.

74 William M. Owens, "The Political Topicality of Menander's Dyskolos," American Journal of Philology 132, no. 3 (2011): 349-75

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Haegemans asserts that the Dyskolos presents simultaneous examples of various evolutionary stages of philanthropy and misanthropy. The manner in which

Menander presents and demonstrates philanthropy is comparable to discussions in

Plato, Aristotle, and Diogenes Laertius. Diogenes identifies three aspects of philanthropy: friendliness, charity, and hospitality. Aristotle discusses philanthropy as virtue in the Nicomachean Ethics and names ἀρεσκεία and δυσκολία as the associated vices. According to Haegemans, the characters in the Dyskolos represent these three levels of the virtue. In the Laws, Plato explains that δυσκολία is developed through experience and is the result of a rough life. Haegemans argues that the audience is gradually introduced to Knemon’s character, first through the descriptions of other people, than through Knemon’s appearance on stage, and lastly through Knemon’s explanation of his character. At first, Knemon is described and shown to be misanthropic and unpleasant, but the momentum in shifted when he falls into the well.

After his rescue, he apologizes for his actions and gives a defense for his character.

He becomes sympathetic. The final act, however, is significant because it shows that even though Knemon has accepted other people’s ways of life, he himself is forced to change. Knemon is a misanthrope, but he is not a bad person. He does not want to dismantle society, but rather believes he is improving it through his withdrawal.

According to Haegemans, Knemon reflects the Aristotelian vice of δυσκολία.

The other degrees of philanthropy are presented in other characters. He argues that

Sikon resembles the vice of obsequiousness, by boasting of his skills in flattery and his attempt to remain polite to Knemon despite being abused by him.

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For Haegemans the virtue of philanthropy is more important to the play. He notes that in general the characters of the play are friendly and hospitable to one another, which are two of the facets of philanthropy according to Diogenes Laertius.

The third facet, generosity, also plays an essential role throughout the play, as when

Kallippides marries his daughter to Gorgias with a dowry without receiving a dowry in return for Sostratos’ marriage to Gorgias’ half-sister. Haegemans argues that philanthropy is especially visible in Gorgias and Sostratos. Sostratos accepts Gorgias as an equal; he invites Gorgias and Daos to the party; and offers Gorgias his sister.

Similarly, Gorgias takes care of his mother; he helps Sostratos; and he rescues

Knemon. Haegemans suggests that the characters of Gorgias and Knemon could have ended up like each other had it not been for their unique experiences. If Gorgias had remained in the same circumstance the rest of his life he could have been hardened like Knemon. Conversely, had Knemon experienced philanthropy similar to Gorgias he might not have ended up as a δύσκολος. In this way, Menander shows that virtue and character are informed both by surroundings and experiences. By relating his characters to different degrees of a virtue, Menander has enriched a stock theme by using moral concepts.75 Haegemans pays particular attention to Menander’s characterizations in the Dyskolos and he compares these characterizations to discussions of a virtue made by Aristotle, Plato, and Diogenes Laertius. The argument he makes emphasizes that the incorporation of ethical philosophy serves as part of

75 K. Haegemans, “Character Drawing in Menander’s Dyskolos: Misanthropy and Philanthropy.” Mnemosyne 54, no. 6 (2001): 675-96

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Menander’s style of characterization. Menander’s characters are enhanced by their relation to Aristotelian virtue which provides another dimension to the stock types.

Characterization figures in the arguments of Lape and Owens. They both make a point of emphasizing the behavior and developments of the characters, but the traits of the characters are put into the context of social biases and public perception.

The manner and style of Menander’s characterization are not as important as the social context. Haegemans, on the other hand, bases his argument entirely upon the manner in which Menander characterizes. He makes direct comparisons to Aristotle and other philosophers. Yet, his comparison does not compare Menander to Aristotle, but rather demonstrate that Menander represents Aristotelian virtues through his characterization.

As Netta Zagagi states, “It has long been recognized that Menander’s main concern in Dyskolos is not the love element but a character study of the misanthrope.”76 Zagagi’s suggestion that the play is intended as a character study is indicated in the text. In the prologue, Pan provides an overview of Knemon’s general behaviors and mannerisms, by which he describes Knemon as being such in this way

(τῷ τρόπῳ τοιοῦτος ὤν, 13). Similarly, during his soliloquy, Knemon offers to explain himself and his ways (τοῦ τρόπου, 742). Finally, when Gorgias betroths his sister to

Sostratos, he does so because Sostratos has demonstrated his character (ἤθει, 764).

Through his repetition of τρόπος and ἤθος, Menander shows that character is playing an important role in the play.

76 Zagagi, The Comedy of Menander, 105

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The Characters of Knemon, Kallippides, Sostratos, and Gorgias

The characterization of Knemon as “grouchy” begins with the title of the play,

Δύσκολος, which Pan references in the prologue: Knemon is δύσκολος πρὸς ἃπαντας

(“grouchy towards everyone,” 7). Knemon’s quality of δυσκολία, however, is far more than simply grumpiness. Knemon is a misanthrope. Pan says that Knemon has never once willingly spoken to anyone, the only person whom he greets first is Pan himself, and he only does so out of obligation (10-12). His unsociable tendencies are not just a passing phase, but rather a consistent part of his character (τῷ τρόπῳ

τοιοῦτος ὢν, 13). Pan makes the full extent of Knemon’s grouchiness clear, he hates everyone (μισῶν ἐφεξῆς πάντας, 34).

Throughout the play, Knemon’s actions repeatedly reinforce Pan’s description.

When the slave Pyrrhias, whom Sostratos sent to ask about the girl, describes his initial encounter with Knemon, the very first words Knemon says to him are “you damned man” (ἀνόσιε ἄνθρωπε, 108-9) and asks why he dare come onto his land.

Before Pyrrhias can even respond, Knemon throws a clod of dirt at him (110-111).

Then Knemon grabbed a stick and beat him and told him to get back on the public road (115). As Pyrrhias ran away, Knemon continued to chase after him throwing more clods of dirt and rocks (120). Sostratos does not believe Pyrrhias’ account until

Knemon appears and he sees for himself. Sostratos describes him as not appearing benevolent at all (οὐ πάνυ φιλάνθρωπον βλ[έπειν μ]οι φαίνεται, 147) and says that he is walking alone yelling to himself (ἀλλὰ κ[αὶ β]οᾷ μόνος βαδίζων, 149-50).

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Knemon’s brief monologue confirms Pyrrhias’ report. Knemon says he envies

Perseus, because he both had wings to fly away from people and had an object that could turn pesky people into stone (153-9). Knemon laments that life is not worth living because people come onto his land and talk with him (νῦν δ’ οὐ βιωτόν

ἐστι…λαλοῦσ’ ἐπεμβαίνοντες εἰς τὸ χωρίον ἤδη, 160-2). He goes on to explain that he has stopped cultivating his land near the road, because of all the travelers (163-5).

These large numbers of people are what really bother him. He deplores the overly numerous crowd (ὢ πολυπληθείας ὄχλου, 166). When Sostratos finally gains the nerves to speak to him, Knemon mockingly tells him to build a bench at his door or even better a council chamber (174-5). Knemon then explains that he is bothered by what he calls “malicious interference” (ἐπηρεασμὸς, 178). To Knemon, even

Sostratos’ display of friendliness is unacceptable.

Later when Knemon is leaving for his fields, he orders his house slave,

Simiche, not to open the door for anyone (427). It is not only people who come onto his property, however, that Knemon hates. When he is leaving his house he sees

Sostratos’ mother and her attendants preparing the sacrifice and asks what is the purpose of this trouble (τουτὶ τὸ κακὸν τι βούλεται; 431) and calls them a “crowd”

(ὄχλος τις, 432). Then he says that they can go to hell (ἄπαγ’ ἐς κόρακας, 432). When the party goes back into the shrine Knemon calls them nuisances and tells them to die horribly (κακοὶ κακῶς ἀπόλοισθε, 442). Knemon then states that they stop him from working, because he cannot leave the house unattended. Yet he also provides some insight into his disdain for them. He calls them thieves and detests how they sacrifice

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(ὡς θύουσι δ’ οἱ τοιχωρύχοι, 447). He criticizes them for servicing their stomachs and not the gods, by drinking wine and eating the good meat (448-54). Part of his misanthropy is due to the selfishness of humanity as he perceives it.77

Knemon, however, provides a more complete explanation of his character after he is rescued from the well by Gorgias. Knemon acknowledges that he has made a mistake, which he describes as a belief that he could be completely self-sufficient and need no one (αὐ[τ]άρκης…καὶ δεήσεσθ’ οὐδενός, 714). He admits, however, that he had been wrong and that a man always needs someone there to help (715-7). Knemon explains the reason behind his lifestyle is that he had seen everyone calculate for their own profit and thought that no one could be a friend to another (ὁρῶν ἑκάστους τοὺς

λογισμούς θ’ ὃν τρόπον πρὸς τὸ κερδαίνειν ἔχουσιν – οὐδέν’ εὔνουν ᾠόμην ἕτερον

ἑτέρῳ τῶν ἁπάντων ἂν γενέσθαι, 719-21). He calls this idea his obstacle (ἐμποδὼν,

722) and says that Gorgias has shown him otherwise (722-3). Knemon describes his own past behavior; how he would not let Gorgias come to his house; how he would never help him; how he would never greet him or speak kindly to him (724-5), yet still

Gorgias helped him. Knemon, however, cannot be other than how he has become. He asks to be allowed to lives as he likes (ζῆν ἐᾶθ’ ὡς βούλομαι, 735). Furthermore, although he has admitted he was wrong in mistrusting everyone, he defends his way of life overall. He describes his own character ([ὑπὲρ ἐ]μοῦ γὰρ βούλομ’ εἰπεῖν ὀλίγα σοι

καὶ τοῦ τρόπου, 742). He asserts that if more people lived like him there would be no need for courts, prisons, or wars (743-5). Rather people would live according to their

77 Gomme and Sandbach, Menander, 205

42 needs and be satisfied (ἔχων δ’ ἂν μέτρι’ ἕκαστος ἤγάπα, 745). Yet, he says, if the other way of life is more suitable, he promises that he will not be an obstacle anymore

(ἐκποδὼν ὑμῖν ὁ χαλεπὸς δύσκολος τ’ ἔσται γέρων, 747).

This scene reveals many layers of Knemon’s character. His character as he sees it is one of self-reliance (αὐταρκία) and he recognizes that there are both defects and advantages to this personality. On the one hand, much of his δυσκολία was informed by a conception he developed through his experience about the inherently selfish nature of men. He was able to let go of this notion by experiencing kindness when he did not deserve it, a demonstration that people could act purely out of benevolence. On the other hand, even though he acknowledges his error, he still believes that a reclusive, moderate life is beneficial. While believing the life he had chosen is best for himself, he implies a sophisticated consistency in his dogma by suggesting that people live as best suits them; it would be ironic if he promoted complete self-reliance, but felt compelled to force others into his way of life. Rather he wants to maintain his autonomy and let others do the same.

In the Nichomachean Ethics Aristotle talks specifically about δυσκολία. In

Book IV Chapter 6 the philosopher considers an unnamed virtue concerned with pleasure and pain in social interactions (περὶ ἡδονὰς καὶ λὐπας εἶναι τὰς ἐν ταῖς ὁμιλίας

γινομενάς, 1126b). The man possessing this virtue is kind and gentle to people, but without being servile and spineless. The excess of this virtue characterizes either a flatterer, κόλαξ, or an obsequious man, ἄρεσκος. The deficiency of this unnamed virtue, however, according to Aristotle, is surliness, δυσκολία. A surly person objects

43 to everything and is apathetic about whatever pain they cause to others (τοῦ λυπεῖν

οὐδ’ ὁτιοῦν φροντίζοντες, 1126b). Thus Knemon does not care whether he causes other people pain: note his assaults on strangers like Pyrrhias (110) and Sikon (515) and insults to everyone he encounters like Sostratos (173), Getas (466), and Simiche

(591).

His habitual contrariness is also well-attested in the play. Pan mentions that he used to argue with his wife (ταύτῃ ζυγομαχῶν, 17), he adds that it was not only during the day, but also through most of the night (17-9). Gorgias confirms this behavior as well (ζυγομαχῶν, 250). Knemon himself admits that he is disagreeable: for example, no one would ever satisfy him as a husband for his daughter (οὐ γὰρ ἀρέσει μοί ποτε

οὐδὲ εἷς, 734-5).

Menander presents Knemon’s character as a deliberate choice informed by his experience. In his soliloquy in Act IV of the play, Knemon explains the rationale behind his character and the way he lives his life. He states that his behavior was informed by the idea that one man is able to take care of himself completely on his own. During this speech he admits his errors in this belief (ἕν δ’ ἴσως ἥμαρτον, 713).

However, he does not utterly dismiss his manner of living. In conclusion he defends his ideals, by saying that if more people lived as he does there would be no wars or need for prisons (743-5). While he admits that he was wrong in the way he treated his family, he states that he still wants to live his life separated from others (735). As noted (p. 18), Aristotle defines virtue as a settled disposition regarding the choice of actions or feelings. Knemon’s awareness of the nature of his own character, including

44 his flaws, and intentions to remain the same, indicate a ἓξις προαιρετική, “settled disposition,” that is central to Aristotle’s definition of moral virtue. Yet, Menander provides further insight into the rationale behind Knemon’s disposition, which was developed through his experiences. By explaining the reasoning behind Knemon’s choices, Menander presents a more complex version of δυσκολία, which is associated with αὐταρκία.

Theophrastus also describes a character similar to Knemon. Although he calls this character αὐθάδεια rather than δυσκολία, it seems obvious that he is discussing the same type of character. Theophrastus says this character is apt to say “πράγματα μοι

μὴ πάρεχε” which in a colloquial sense means “don’t bother me” (15.2). Compare this then to some of Knemon’s expressions; when Sostratos tries to speak with him, “It seems to me that pestering is the problem,” (ἐπηρεασμὸς τὸ κακὸν εἶναί μοι δοκεῖ,

178); when Sikon asks him for a dish, “I told everyone not to come to me in this way,”

(εἴρηχ’ ἁπλῶς μὴ προσιέναι μοι πᾶσι τοῖς ἐν τῷ τόπῳ, 507-8); and when Gorgias tries to consult him about the girl’s marriage, “Don’t bother me” (μὴ ᾿νόχλει, 750). The utterances align with Theophrastus’ description of the αὐθαδής. For both Knemon and the αὐθαδής social interaction is a nuisance.

There are other alignments with Theophrastus. Theophrastus says that the grouch is apt to curse (καταράσαθαι, 15.8). When Knemon first sees Pyrrhias we are told that some of his first words to him were ἀνόσιε ἄνθρωπε (damned man, 108-9) and ἀλλά σ’ ὁ Ποσειδῶν (may Poseidon [damn you], 112). Additionally Theophrastus says that this character is reluctant to sing or dance (οὒτε ᾆσαι…οὒτε ὀρχήσασθαι ἂν

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ἐθελήσειεν, 15.10), which calls to mind the last scene of the play, in which Knemon refuses to dance at his own daughter’s wedding, until the slaves pester him to reluctantly participate. Lastly, Theophrastus says that the αὐθαδής is unlikely to ask for help from anyone, including the gods (μὴ ἐπεύχεσάι, 15.11), which, according to

Knemon himself, is the central ideology behind his way of life, ὃστις τῶν ἁπάντων

ᾠόμην αὐτὸς αὐτάρκης τις εἶναι καὶ δεήσεσθ᾿ οὐδενός (“I thought that I of all people was completely self-sufficient and needed no one, 713-4). Knemon’s self- identification as an αὐτάρκης aligns him with the αὐθάδης. Αὐθαδεία a compound formed from αὐτός (self) and ἡδύς (pleasant); and the latter from αὐτός (self) and

ἀρκέω (to suffice). Both words communicate the idea that such a person thrives in solitude, rather than among the company of others. There is, however, a more negative ethical connotation to αὐθαδεία, which implies that a person takes happiness in their solitude. Knemon’s quality of αὐταρκεία, however, does not imply that he experiences pleasure in solitude, and in fact Knemon does not seem to show any pleasure regardless.

Another hallmark of Knemon’s behavior is his anger. The first word Pyrrhias uses indicates his anger: μαίνεται (he is in a rage, 82). Likewise, Chaireas describes his actions as ὡς ὀργίλως (so angry, 102). The numerous curses and threats that

Knemon utters through the remainder of the play show clearly that anger is a frequent emotion. Simply by virtue of being δύσκολος, most of Knemon’s interactions with others demonstrate his overall anger.

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In the Rhetoric, Aristotle defines anger as desire for revenge, accompanied by pain, for an undeserved belittlement caused against oneself or loved ones (1378a).

Aristotle acknowledges that pain is caused when one wants or expects something and either someone interferes with this desire or the opposite of the desired outcome occurs, and whoever is responsible for this interference becomes the object of the person’s anger (1379a). As one who is αὐτάρκης, Knemon’s condition is such that he desires solitude. Therefore, anyone who speaks to him deprives him of what he desires and becomes the object of Knemon’s anger. Though the pain is only half of anger, the other half being desire for revenge, which Knemon also regularly expresses.

Knemon’s desire for revenge ranges from fantastic imagining, wishing to have

Medusa’s head to petrify trespassers (156-8), to brutish realism, wanting to make an example of the next person who knocks on his door (484-5). In fact, every time

Knemon curses at people he expresses desire for revenge; a curse being an evocation of the gods to disperse divine punishment on someone. Fitting with Aristotle’s definition of anger, Knemon regularly feels slighted by others for depriving him of his desire for solitude and on account of that wants revenge.

In the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle discusses the excess of anger, which he says is nameless, but may be called “irascibility” (ὀργιλότης, 1125b). This deficiency involving the virtue of gentleness is manifested variously: becoming angry at the wrong people, for the wrong things, too suddenly, too severely, or remaining angry for too long. Aristotle maintains, however, that one person cannot possess an excess of anger in all of these forms, for the presence of an evil in its entirety is unbearable and

47 would destroy itself (1126a). There then are four types of men who have an excess of anger: the “irascible” (ὀργίλοι, 1126a), who become angry quickly, with the wrong people, for the wrong things, and too severely; the “passionate” (ἀκρόχολοι, 1126a), who become angry exceptionally quickly and at everything; the “bitter” (πικροὶ,

1126a), who rarely cease their anger; and the “harsh” (χαλεποί, 1126a), who become angry at the wrong things, very severely, and remain angry for a long time. Anger itself is not the disposition, but rather an emotion, and so is not a vice. It is the excessive proneness and the reaction to anger that serves as the ἕξις. In this way, these classifications of angry men represent four different dispositions that are expressed in an excess of anger.

Of these classifications, Knemon seems best described as irascible (ὀργίλος), for he certainly becomes angry quickly and often to people undeserving of anger.

Thus, he curses Sostratos’ mother for holding a sacrifice to Pan (431-2). He is not simply passionate, for his anger is also extremely severe: He beats Sikon for knocking at his door (500-2). Chaireas’ description of Knemon (ὡς ὀργίλως, 102) aligns

Knemon with the Aristotelian ὀργίλος.

Aristotle says that the best quality of such a man is that their anger is over quickly, because they retaliate. In each case, Knemon has a new cause for anger. The only instance that suggests Knemon is keeping anger from a previous grievance is when Sikon first knocks on his door, Knemon answers by saying “You again?” (πάλιν

αὖ σύ, 500), believing that it is Getas returning from earlier. As Aristotle asserts, the irascible man tempers his anger quickly, because he retaliates. When Getas first

48 bothered him, however, he was able to get away before Knemon could react against him, which is not what Knemon intended, “I don’t know how this one got away just now” (ὁ νῦν δ’ οὐκ οἶδ’ ὅπως διευτύχηκεν οὗτος, 485-6). The only reason he retained his anger towards Getas is because, contrary to his wishes, he did not get his retaliation, which Aristotle claims is necessary in order for the irascible man’s anger to die down. This distinguishes Knemon from the types of men who do maintain their anger for an extended period of time, as these men typically do not counter react, but prefer to remain in resentment (1126a).

Besides his emotional traits and social behavior, the other significant part of

Knemon’s identity is his age. Pan says that he has lived a long time, (ζῶν…χρόνον

πολὺν, 8-9) and identifies him as an old man (ὁ γέρων, 30). Returning to Aristotle’s

Rhetoric, there are numerous similarities to be found between his description of old men and Knemon. Some of the descriptions of old men fit Knemon simply by virtue of him being δύσκολος. For instance, Aristotle says that old men are malicious

(κακοήθεις, ΙΙ.13.3) and chilled (κατεψυγμένοι, 1389b). Aristotle also says that old men are small-minded (μικρόψυχοι, 1389b) and only desire the bare necessities (ἀλλὰ

τῶν πρὸς τὸν βίον ἐπιθυμοῦσιν, 1389b). Knemon acknowledges his own small- mindedness when he admits he believed that everyone only acted for their own profit

(721), but even admitting to his errors, nevertheless, he still wants to live in his own way (ζῆν ἐᾶθ’ ὡς βούλομαι, 735). In his way of life a man is happy living according to his means (ἒχων δ’ ἂν μέτρι’ ἓκαστος ἠγάπα, 745). Furthermore, Aristotle says that old men are not certain in what they say, but qualify their speech by using words like

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“think,” “perhaps,” and “maybe” (οἴονται; ἴσως; τάχα, 1389b). In his soliloquy (711-

748), Knemon uses some form of οἴομαι three times (713, 720, and 730); he uses ἴσως three times as well (713, 730, and 746). After his fall in the well and rescue, Knemon exhibits the lack of certainty that Aristotle says is characteristic of old men. Aristotle also says that old men are pessimistic because of their experience (δυσέλπιδες διὰ τὴν

ἐμπειρίαν, 1390a). Knemon recognizes that his experience had informed his cynicism, believing that people only acted for their own gain, because that is what he had seen

(τοὺς βίους ὁρῶν ἑκάστους τοὺς λογισμούς θ’ ὃν τρόπον πρὸς τὸ κερδαίνειν, 719-20).

The other old man of the play, Sostratos’ father Kallippides, shares qualities of old men, according to Aristotle, despite being rather different in character from

Knemon. Aristotle says that old men are illiberal with their money (ἀνελεύθεροι,

1389b), pessimistic (δυσέλπιδες, 1390a), and slaves to profit (δουλεύουσι τῷ κέρδει,

1390a). Kallippides displays these qualities in his one brief appearance. His lack of generosity and lack of hope are manifest in his refusing to marry his daughter to

Gorgias, not wanting to risk having the burden of two paupers marrying into the family and Sostratos brings to attention his obsession with money (περὶ χρημάτων

λαλεῖς, 797). Yet, as Aristotle says, old men are also prone to pity, because they fear that they may soon suffer the same misfortune (1390a). This is the very kind of pity that convinces Kallippides to marry his daughter to Gorgias, when Sostratos says that fate might take away his fortune one day (803).

Kallippides is wealthy. In the prologue, Pan says that Sostratos is the son of rich farmer with a plot of land worth much money (μαλ’ εὐπόρου πατρὸς γεωργοῦντος

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ταλάντων κτήματα ἐνταῦθα πολλῶν, 39-41), likewise Gorgias is familiar about how rich Kallippides is (πλούσιος γ’ ἀνήρ, 774). In his love of money, Kallippides resembles Plato’s oligarchic man. The greatest fear of the oligarchic man is that he will lose his wealth (554d), which is the fear Sostratos chooses to utilize to appeal to his father’s pity. The oligarchic man’s desire for money extends beyond wanting to maintain his prosperity, but rather he values wealth before any other matter (οὐκοῦν

πρῶτον μὲν τῷ χρήματα περὶ πλείστου ποιεῖσθαι ὃμοιος ἂν εἲη, 554a). In Menander,

Sostratos accuses his father of only speaking in terms of money (797). Furthermore, the oligarchic man, in his efforts to expand his wealth, is hard-working (ἐργάτης,

554a), and Sostratos tells us that Kallippides is entitled to his wealth, being unmatched as a farmer (καὶ δικαίως γ’, ὡς γεωργὸς ἂμαχος, 775). Plato summarizes the character of the oligarchic man as thrifty and money-making (φειδωλόν τε καὶ χρηματιστὴν,

555a), which is how Kallippides’ character is introduced to the audience, before he even appears on stage.

In Plato’s discussion, the son of the oligarchic man is the democratic man, and as Kallippides bears some resemblance to the former, so does Sostratos to the latter.

The democratic man is ruled by his desires (ἐπιθυμιῶν, 559c), which distract him from reason. Throughout the entire play, Sostratos is motivated by ἔρως (44): wild passion.

Sostratos admits that his erotic love has interfered with his judgement (ἀλλ’ οὐ ῥᾴδιον

ἐρῶντα συνιδεῖν ἐστι τί ποτε συμφέρει, 76-7). The democratic man does not live a consistent life, but acts according to whatever passion afflicts him that day

(χαριζόμενος τῇ προσπιπτούσῃ ἐπιθυμίᾳ, 561c). Depending on what passions are

51 moving him, some days he drinks wine, other days water; some days he is idle, other days he exercises. Sostratos is an aristocrat, who lives in luxury (τρυφερὸς ὢν, 766), yet that day he participates in toilsome labor, because his passion urged him to do so.

Plato summarizes the democratic man as one who lives the life of a man devoted to equality (βίον ἰσονομικοῦ τινὸς ἀνδρὸς, 561e). Gorgias praises Sostratos for not hiding his character (οὐ πεπλασμένῳ γὰρ ἢθει, 764), the best part of which is his willingness to make himself equal to a poor man (ἐξισοῦν ἑαυτὸν ὃστις ὑπομένει τινὶ

εὐπορῶν πένητι, 768-9). Plato categorizes the democratic man as one who is moved by passion, performs tasks inconsistent with a lifestyle, and a devotee of equality, qualities which Sostratos demonstrates throughout the play.

Sostratos also aligns with Aristotle’s description of youth in the Rhetoric. The first statement Aristotle makes about youth is that they are prone to act according to their desires (ποιεῖν ὧν ἂν ἐπιθυμήσωσιν, 1389a), especially sexual pleasure, over which they have no control (τῶν περὶ τὸ σῶμα ἐπιθυμιῶν, 1389a). This description applies to Sostratos. Also, youth are desirous for victory (φιλόνικοι, 1389a), which is how Sostratos views marrying the girl (πῶς οὐκ ἐπιτυχεῖν ἐστι ταύτης μακάριον; “How is it not a blessing to win her?” 389 and ἁλωτὰ γίνετ’ ἐπιμελείᾳ καὶ πόνῳ ἃπαντ’,

“anything can be won through care and effort,” 862-3). Aristotle also claims that the young care more for doing what is noble over what is practical (1389a); furthermore, they are affectionate for their friends companions (φιλόπιλοι καὶ φιλέταιροι, 1389b) and do not care about expedience (μήπω πρὸς τὸ κρίνειν μηδέν, 1389b). When

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Sostratos asks his father to marry his sister to Gorgias, Sostratos is putting his care for his friend over what is most practically and economically prudent.

In regards to his wealth, Sostratos does not seem to resemble stereotypes of the wealthy. In the Rhetoric, Aristotle describes the characters of wealthy men as being haughty and arrogant (1390b). On account of their wealth, they believe they have possession over all good things, because they measure everything in terms of monetary value and so everything seems purchasable (1391a). They are luxurious and snobbish, because they believe all men wish to emulate them. Also, because of their leisure and their lack of want, Aristotle says that the character of the rich is mindlessly happy (ἀνοήτου εὐδαίμονος ἦθος πλούτου ἐστίν, 1391a). Sostratos as a stereotypical young man seems to trump Sostratos as a rich man. He avoids seeming arrogant (ἀλλ’

ἐπαινεῖν αὑτόν ἐστι φορτικόν τι πρᾶγμ’ ἴσως, 772) and was willing to make himself equal with the poor, which Gorgias says was a display of Sostratos’ true character.

Before he had befriended him, Gorgias believed Sostratos was a typical rich man, such as Aristotle described. Upon seeing Sostratos, Gorgias is able to identify him as rich by his expensive cloak (τὴν χλανίδ’ ἔχων, 257). Gorgias advises Sostratos not to trust in his wealth (μήτ’ αὐτός, εἰ σφόδρ’ εὐπορεῖς, πίστευε τούτῳ, 284-5). In

Gorgias’ view, Sostratos seems to believe that his current fortune entitles him to act with disregard for others. Gorgias also believed that Sostratos would use his leisure to harm the poor, who had none (οὐ δίκαιον ἐστι γοῦν τὴν σὴν σχολὴν τοῖς ἀσχολουμένοις

κακὸν ἡμῖν γενέσθαι, 293-4). Gorgias’ sense of grievance emphasizes the contrast between the toilsome lives of the poor and luxurious lifestyle of the rich. Sostratos’

53 clarification of his intents for the girl completely change Gorgias’ opinion of Sostratos

(μεταπείθεις, 317).

Gorgias also belies the stereotypes of his class. In Book VIII of the Republic,

Plato asserts that the oligarchic man is accompanied by “drones” (κηφῆνες, 552c), the lowest class of people. These drones take on two forms: the stingless and the stinger- equipped. The former become beggars, and the latter thieves. According to the schema of the oligarchic man, Gorgias would be a drone, living at the fringe of society and possessing little money. As an oligarchic man, Kallippides would assume that

Gorgias would behave like these drones, trying to get money through begging or crime. When Gorgias refuses to accept Sostratos’ sister, along with her generous dowry, Kallippides is surprised. Kallippides’ surprise does not come simply from someone turning down money; he is surprised that a poor person, specifically, is turning down money, as he tells Gorgias, “Having nothing, you wish to seem rich,”

(οὐκ ἔχων βούλει δοκεῖν [τρυφᾶν], 836-7). Kallippides views Gorgias’ actions uncharacteristic for his economic status.

The prejudices which both the upper and lower classes hold against each other are exhibited within the play: the upper-class’s assumption that the poor are shameless in their desire for money and the lower-class’s distrust of the humility of the rich.

Menander presents these misconceptions in a way that is similar to the philosophers, but immediately contradicted by the actions of the one being judged. The entire play ends with the two classes merging together, so it makes a powerful statement about character when the class biases are raised and shown to be false.

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Gorgias, additionally, shares some of the qualities of youth with Sostratos. His effort to help his new friend marry his sister, shows that he too is willing to help

Sostratos. Aristotle also says that youth err due to excess and they experience their emotions intensely (1389b). When Gorgias first meets Sostratos, before Sostratos can even explain himself, he calls him a criminal (κακοῦργος, 258) and makes some threats to Sostratos (κατεργάσασθαι πρᾶγμα θανάτων ἂξιον πολλῶν, “that you commit a crime worth many deaths,” 292 and πτωχὸς ἀδικηθείς ἐστι δυσκολώτατον, “a wronged poor man is your worst enemy, 296). Yet, in only a few lines later Sostratos explains himself and Gorgias becomes his ally. Aristotle says that young men feel both love and hate in excess (φιλοῦσι τε γὰρ ἂγαν καὶ μισουσίν ἂγαν, 1389b). How else would one describe the emotional quality of a man who goes from hating a complete stranger to helping him marry his half-sister over the course of one conversation? However, throughout the play Gorgias seems to be generally in more control over his emotions than Sostratos, or at least is not as intensely driven by any passion as Sostratos is by love. This relative maturity, is explained by Pan, who describes Gorgias as one with a mind above his age, (ὑπερ τὴν ἡλικίαν τὸν νοῦν ἒχων,

28). Many of the qualities of youth, Aristotle credits to inexperience of troubles, and so in many ways Gorgias, who has lived a rather difficult life, is relatively mature, yet there are some times when the character befitting his age becomes apparent.

Considering the initial hostility that Gorgias feels towards Sostratos, it seems fitting to revisit Aristotle’s definition of anger: desire for revenge, accompanied by pain, for an undeserved belittlement caused against oneself or loved ones. Gorgias

55 believes that Sostratos is intending to take advantage of his sister, which would bring shame both to her and to him (243-5). At the moment, all Sostratos has done is speak to the girl, and so Gorgias’ desire for revenge is relatively mild, he just want to confront Sostratos and tell him to leave his sister alone. If Sostratos, however, does commit the act which Gorgias suspects he has in mind, Gorgias articulates that his revenge will be severe (292 and 296). Gorgias is angry at Sostratos, because he believes that Sostratos wants to take advantage of his sister. He is inclined to seek revenge. Once Sostratos explains himself, however, Gorgias sets aside his anger. He becomes calm. The circumstances under which men display mildness or calmness

(πραότης, 1380a) are when they learn that a perceived injury against them was done unintentionally or that the person intended to do the opposite (1380a). When Sostratos explains that he intends to marry Gorgias’ sister, Gorgias learns that Sostratos did not want to shame the girl, as he thought, but rather the contrary. The origin of Gorgias’ anger and his dismissal of it are both justified in the context of the Rhetoric.

In the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle says that there is a way to observe anger in relation to its mean, which he calls “gentleness” (πραότης, 1125a). Gentleness is not an utter withdrawal from anger, but rather feeling anger in an appropriate manner, which Aristotle claims is publically acknowledged as praiseworthy. This is anger which is felt against the right person, for the right thing, in the right manner, for the right amount of time (1125a). Gorgias may be angry, but he is angry at someone whom he believes is trying to seduce his half-sister; he does not act irrationally or violently in his anger, but rather explains the circumstances to Sostratos and informs

56 him of the consequences; lastly, he does not hold onto his anger for too long, but once he learns of Sostratos’ true intentions, he becomes calm. It seems difficult to accuse

Gorgias of acting too severely, in fact, considering the risk of shame and social injury, if he had not been angered by the incident and had dismissed it entirely, he could have been accused of what Aristotle calls ἀοργησία (1125a), which is the deficiency in relation to anger.

In many ways, the relationship between Sostratos and Gorgias is the most developed one in the play. They began as hostile strangers, but by the end of the play they each recognize each other as friends. Sostratos tells Gorgias that he has been his friend since before they even met (εἰμὶ γάρ, ἀκριβῶς ἴσθι, σοὶ πάλαι φίλος, πρὶν ἰδεῖν,

615-6) and Gorgias tells Sostratos that he is an excellent friend whom he loves a lot

(ἐγώ σε, Σώστρατ’, εἶναι μὲν φίλον ὑπολαμβάνω σπουδαῖον ἀγαπῶ τ’ ἐκτόπως, 823-4).

In the Rhetoric, Aristotle defines friendship as wishing good things for someone, for his sake and not oneself, and assisting in these efforts as far as one is able (1381a). In their mutual efforts to marry each other to their sisters, both Sostratos and Gorgias want good things for each other and do what they can to have them happen. Many of

Aristotle’s examples of friendship appear in the relationship of Sostratos and Gorgias.

For instance, a friend sometimes is one for whom the same things are good (1381a), such as Sostratos marrying Gorgias’ sister, which is something that Sostratos obviously wants, and so does Gorgias, (τὸ τοιοῦτο γὰρ ἴδοιμι κἂν αὐτὸς γενόμενον

ἄσμενος, 353-4). A friend can also be one who helps another with money, or, correspondingly, one who does not want to live off upon others (1381a). This may be

57 reflected in Sostratos offer of his sister with a dowry, and Gorgias’ refusal, because he does not want to live off of money he has not earned (830). Additionally, a friend is the sort who praises another’s good features. Thus, Sostratos admires Gorgias’ strength (ἀλλ’ ὁ Γοργίας Ἄτλας ἦν οὐχ ὁ τυχών, 683-4) and when Gorgias betroths his sister to Sostratos, he compliments him for his admirable character (οὐ πεπλασμένῳ

γὰρ ἤθει, 764).

In the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle described δυσκολία as the deficiency of an unnamed virtue, which he said resembles friendship (ἔοικε δὲ μάλιστα φιλίᾳ,

1126b). He, however, says that this virtue differs from friendship, because it lacks the emotional factor of affection that friendship implies. Moreover, this unnamed virtue entails a sense of social propriety and proportionality; a man of such quality is guided by a sense of honor and expediency and is concerned with pleasures and pains in social circumstances (πρὸς τὸ καλὸν καὶ τὸ συμφέρον στοχάσεται… ἔοικε μὲν γὰρ περὶ

ἡδονὰς καὶ λύπας εἶναι τὰς ἐν ταῖς ὁμιλίαις γινομένας, 1126b). As such, it cannot be said that Sostratos, who put himself on the same level as the poor (768-9), participates in this virtue. Gorgias, however, does regulate his behavior according to social expectations. He refuses to marry Sostratos’ sister on account that he would be taking more than he deserves (833-4) and he tries to insist that his half-sister be married with a dowry (844-5). As Aristotle says, such a man will refuse to accept a pleasure that brings himself discredit or shame (1126b). It might seem that Gorgias’ initial anger at

Sostratos would contradict the natural amiability of this virtue, but Aristotle also

58 remarks that the man of this virtue prefers to give pain than to accept something which would bring him dishonor, such as Gorgias feared would happen with his sister.

Knemon in terms of his moral character displays vices of two extremes. On the one hand, he shows a deficiency of an amiable virtue in his trait of being δύσκολος, on the other hand he shows an excess of anger in his trait of being ὀργίλος. His step- son Gorgias, however, has a moral character in the means, exhibiting the virtue similar to friendship and πραότης, which is supported by Haegemans.78 The characters and friendship of Gorgias and Sostratus provide a foil to Knemon’s dysfunctionality and isolation.

Most of the characterization in this play is presented through the relationships and interactions of the characters. Knemon’s δυσκολία is manifested through his interactions with others. Both Aristotle and Theophrastus, when they discuss this or a similar characteristic, emphasize the social interactions that such a character experiences; Aristotle defines the δύσκολος as indifferently causing others pain and

Theophrastus illustrates the αὐθάδης through examples of how such a person of that trait abuses others. Similarly, Menander displays Knemon’s character through his interactions with the other characters. Although he tells us that Knemon is δύσκολος, this trait is realized through Knemon’s treatment of everyone he encounters. In fact, even though Knemon wants to spend his time alone, he is never alone on stage.

78 Haegemans, “Character Drawing in Menander’s Dyskolos,” 696

59

Social interaction is not only used to demonstrate character, but is also shown to influence it. The relationship between Kallippides and Sostratos gives example of how a parsimonious father like Kallippides influences his son to be less concerned with maintaining wealth, a relationship that is portrayed in Plato’s discussion of the oligarchic and democratic men. Likewise the friendship of Gorgias and Sostratos, which is perhaps the most important relationship in the play, is developed through their interactions with one another. Sostratos must prove his value to Gorgias by demonstrating his willingness to work with him, which Gorgias reciprocates by helping Sostratos marry his sister. Friendship is not established through each character independently establishing their virtue, but rather is a collaborative effort proved by their behavior with each other.

60

Chapter 3: Character through Father and Son An Analysis of the Samia

The Samia in History and Scholarship

The Samia formed the Bodmer papyri with the Dyskolos and Aspis.79

Although a sizeable portion of the lines are either missing or corrupted, enough remains for the Samia to be considered a full play, with some reservations.80 Though part of the same codex as the Dyskolos, Samia was not published until 1969.81 It is unknown when the play was first produced, but it is believed to be one of Menander’s earlier plays.82 Gomme and Sandbach, however, note that the protagonist Moschion speaks about becoming a mercenary in Karia, which has no record of fighting before

315 BCE. They argue that Moschion’s plan is most consistent with Ptolemy I’s need for troops in 309 BCE and suggest this date for the play, but concede that a date as early as 315 BCE is possible.83 If they are correct, the Samia would have been produced after the Dyskolos. While the Samia did not win first prize at a festival, it seems to have been preserved into late antiquity. Evidence suggests that the Samia was one of Menander’s best-known plays in antiquity. The Bodmer papyrus

79 Nervegna, Menander in Antiquity, 220 80 Walton and Arnott, Menander and the Making of Comedy, 40 81 Ibid. 82 Gomme and Sandbach, Menander, 542 83 Gomme and Sandbach, Menander, 543

61 manuscript itself seems to have belonged to a Christian school in Panopolis, and the sixth century rhetorician, Choricius, used examples from the Samia in his works.84

As a play, the Samia presents a depiction of Athenian life composed of realistic elements. The story focuses on an aristocratic family composed of a father, his adopted son, and his courtesan. The son, Moschion, impregnated the neighbor’s daughter, Plangon, and the courtesan, Chrysis, agreed to take care of the child until the father, Demeas, and the neighbor, Nikeratos, return and Moschion and Plangon can be married. Through miscommunication and misleading information Demeas ends up believing that the baby is the result of an affair between Moschion and Chrysis.

Compared to the Dyskolos, which Zagagi describes as a “fairy-tale play whose plot is set firm in the mould of romantic convention and in this respect has little to do with real, everyday life,”85 the Samia offers more a realistic representation of the Athenian elite, without the inclusion of poor members of society or eccentric characters, like

Knemon.86 This realism is reflected in the prologue delivered by Moschion, rather than a deity, as was the convention.87

The Samia, in its comedic realism, provides scholars with several opportunities for discussion about Athenian social life and relationships. The titular character, the

Samian courtesan Chrysis, is one particular point of interest because she depicts a usually under-represented segment of the Athenian population. While she herself might only have a few lines in the play, her relationship and interactions with Demeas

84 Nervegna, Menander in Antiquity, 220-1 85 Zagagi, The Comedy of Menander, 113 86 Ibid. 87 Goldberg, The Making of Menander’s Comedy, 92

62 reflect aspects of Athenian society. Susan Lape, for instance, observes that the sort of relationship that exists between Demeas and Chrysis would have been generally permitted by Athenian law. Though legal, such a relationship was not normative for elite Athenian society. In fact, the testimony of an ancient litigant suggests that cohabitation with a hetaera ran counter to propriety. Furthermore, Demeas is placed into legal jeopardy when he believes that Chrysis has borne his child. A child born under such circumstances would be illegitimate without any chance for citizenship, a social pariah.

Moreover, because ancient Athens lacked any official registration of marriage, there were social implications for Demeas, if he were to have a child with Chrysis.

Since the two were already living together, the addition of a child would suggest to the public that Demeas was taking Chrysis as his wife. This would place a legal burden on Demeas to prove that his relationship to Chrysis is not a counterfeit and illegal marriage. Lape, emphasizing the social and legal implications of the play, concludes that Demeas is primarily motivated throughout the play by a fear of legal accusations being brought against him.88 While Menander does not directly reference these laws or social conventions, they would have been in the minds of his audience. Through an understanding of the social norms of the time, Lape demonstrates a rationale for “one facet of [Demeas’] forensic characterization.”89

Most scholarly discussion has focused the father-son relationship between

Demeas and Moschion. As Eva Keuls writes about the Samia, “The love stories, in

88 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 147-50 89 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 150

63 fact, are overshadowed by the relationship between the father and adoptive son, of which the tales of Chrysis and the hapless baby sounds a weaker echo.”90 Keuls notes that the play is a study of the human relationship between father and son.91 She argues not only that the father-son relationship is emphasized in the play, but that Moschion’s relationship as an adoptive son is significant in understanding their relationship. She argues that the play suggests that Demeas had not taken Moschion up as a son while the boy was a baby, but rather it was a later adoption. This detail would have eliminated the possibility of a secret revelation about Moschion’s origin, a common trope in New Comedy. It informs our reading of Moschion, who would always have known that Demeas was his adoptive father. Keuls argues that the importance of

Moschion’s status as an adopted child lies in the ancient Greek notion of blood- relatives being ἀναγκαῖοι, or “necessary ones.” Biological relations must be accepted as they are. The lack of this blood-relationship between Moschion and Demeas means that neither one is obligated to accept the other. Demeas could reject his son for his supposed insubordination, while Moschion could criticize Demeas for his false accusations. Demeas, however, handles his suspicions with generosity towards his son and Moschion is able to forgive Demeas for holding these suspicions. For Keuls, the adoptive nature of their relationship is particularly significant when considered in the context of the treatment of Moschion’s child. First, Moschion is willing to temporarily, or possibly permanently, give his child to Chrysis to preserve his

90 Eva Keuls, “The Samia of Menander. An Interpretation of Its Plot and Theme.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, Bd. 10 (1973): 19 91 Keuls, “The Samia of Menander,” 1

64 relationship with Demeas. Then Demeas, when he believes the baby is his illegitimate son, decides to remove him from the house. Then, when he actually does expel the baby and Chrysis from the house, he does so with the knowledge that the baby is his grandson, though through a betrayal. As Keuls asserts there is a juxtaposition between natural parenthood and voluntary parenthood. The play ends without clarifying who will raise the child, Moschion and Plangon or Demeas and

Chrysis, yet it suggests that the latter will raise the child while the former will produce legitimate offspring. Keuls concludes that if the play were presented exactly the same, but with Moschion as Demeas’ natural son, then many of the interactions between the characters would be considered socially unacceptable. The play depicts a loving relationship that must be fostered through constant mutual effort, rather than through an inescapable bond.92 This conclusion suggests that the relationship of Demeas and

Moschion is based upon their decision to choose each other as father and son, which in turn supposes elements of their individual characters. Keuls argues on the basis of elements of the play that are either explicitly stated or implied and contextualizes them within some social elements of the contemporaneous society.

John Grant also focuses on the father-son relationship, but addresses the question of whether or not Menander has portrayed this relationship favorably. Grant acknowledges that the popular view is that the Samia presents a paradigmatic father- son relationship. He notes that there have been opposing views that the play is intentionally bitter and sarcastic. Grant presents various instances within the play that

92 Keuls, “The Samia of Menander,” 1-20

65 describe the nature of their relationship, the first instance being Moschion’s recognition that his father has been generous to him throughout his life. Grant, however, notes that Moschion’s description of his relationship with Demeas better aligns with Aristotle’s description of friendship than with a father-son relationship.

When Moschion does speak about Demeas as his father, he expresses shame and fear.

Grant also notes that Demeas often portrays characteristics normally reserved for young men in New Comedy. For instance, rather than the typical trope of the son giving up his lover for his father, Demeas gives up Chrysis for his son’s sake.

Likewise, Demeas’ language may align him with the stereotyped young protagonist rather than the senex. Grant notes ten instances in Menander where a speaker refers to himself in the second person. In every instance, except for three, the speaker is a young man. These three exceptions all occur in the Samia; once it is the slave

Parmenon, but the other times it is Demeas. This theme of reversal is carried into the final act of the play, which anticipates a reconciliation between the father and son.

This reconciliation, however, is not convincing in its exhibition and “the two men seem to be as far apart as at the beginning of the play.”93

Grant argues that the distance between the two is presented not only through their unusual relationship, but also through their characterization. Moschion is shown to make promises, but be ineffective and idle in achieving them. Demeas, on the other hand, is prone to thinking and acting too rashly. The play depicts a relationship between a father and son with different dispositions, but who genuinely care for one

93 John N. Grant, “The Father-son Relationship and the Ending of Menander’s ‘Samia.’” Phoenix 40, no. 2 (1986): 181

66 another. Grant concludes, however, that this relationship is shown to be unsuccessful; there is a lack of any real resolution between the father and son.94 Grant makes his argument through examples in the texts that suggest an overall insight into the functionality of these two characters, based on their relationship and characterization.

Valeria Cinaglia describes the Moschion-Demeas relationship in the context of

Aristotelian ethics. She argues that Aristotle and Menander present ethical choice in similar fashions. Cinaglia analyzes how an Aristotelian notion of ethical choice is represented through the actions of Demeas and Moschion. She compares Demeas’ ignorance of what has transpired to what he believes he knows. When Demeas assumes that Chrysis has slept with Moschion, he reasons out his conclusion, in a manner resembling the Aristotelian syllogism, the enthymeme. Cinaglia argues that

Demeas’ emotions impair his ability to draw inferences. A dissonance between perception and knowledge allows for false belief. Demeas’ emotions mislead him and indicate a failure of his character. Likewise, Moschion’s emotions affect his ethical choices. Whereas Demeas errs out of ignorance, Moschion acts incorrectly even when he understands the circumstances. Despite knowing what he must do, Moschion admits that he is ashamed to do his duty. Cinaglia reads Moschion’s failure to act in the context of Aristotle’s definition of shame. Shame overpowers Moschion and prevents him from making the correct ethical choice. Cinaglia connects this ethical failure to Moschion’s rape of Plangon before the action of the play – another instance

94 Grant, “The Father-Son Relationship,” 172-184

67 of emotion adversely affecting choice. As Demeas, Moschion is deterred from doing the right thing by his emotions.

Cinaglia then compares Demeas’ and Moschion’s ethical reasoning as demonstrated with Aristotle’s. Aristotle says that perception implies both thinking and judging. Perception, however, differs from thinking in that perception is always true per se, while thinking can be done falsely. Thus, perception can lead to incorrect thinking. There are then distinctions between sound judgement, understanding, true opinion, and perception; the first three are always right, whereas the last categorization can lead to false conclusion. Aristotle argues that humans, when they perceive through senses, perform a process of reasoning which results in the decision to perform a certain action. In this way, perception informs moral reasoning. One way in which one might succumb to inaccurate perception is by influence of emotions.

The lack of control over the emotions can mislead a person into perceiving wrongly.

Emotions might similarly mislead a person into wrong judgement by altering what that person would general perceive as good. For these reasons, Aristotle says that emotional state of mind can be determinative of correct judgement. Cinaglia concludes by arguing that there are similarities in the way Menander and Aristotle portray the impact of emotions on ethical choice. She hesitates to state that Menander is recreating Aristotle’s views for the stage, but maintains that both demonstrate how emotions can alter the process of ethical reasoning.95

95 Valeria Cinaglia, Aristotle and Menander on the Ethics of Understanding (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 60- 101

68

While these scholars do not necessarily address characterization in the Samia explicitly, their arguments engage with the topic. Lape explains the behaviors of the characters in the context of social conventions. Grant and Keuls explain these behaviors in the context of the father-son relationship. Cinaglia considers behavior through Aristotelian ethics. These arguments, however, are not concerned with the manner of characterization in Menander and while Cinaglia uses Aristotle as a comparison, she does so in the lens of ethical philosophy.

My discussion of characterization focuses on Moschion and Demeas. The general consensus seems to be that their relationship is the focus of the play and so they are the most important characters. Furthermore, as wealthy, citizen men they fall within the same demographic on which the philosophers base their discussions of character.

The Characters of Moschion and Demeas

Moschion is prone to shame and cowardice. These two traits motivate his behavior throughout the play and move along the dramatic conflict. Moschion’s rape of Plangon and its consequences cause the dramatic and social conflicts in the play. It is clear that he is deeply ashamed of what he has done. In his opening speech, while recounting the events of that night, Moschion pauses and interjects an “oh my” into his account (συμπαρὼν [ἐγι]νόμην, οἴμοι, θεατής, 76-7J), 96 before recollecting his

96 Gomme and Sandbach, Menander, 549-50: there is disagreement on whether the word being used here is οἴμοι. The original B text has οιμε, which supposes a confusion of οι and ε. Jacques is the one who suggests οἴμοι, and explains it being used as Moschion sighing because this is when his troubles

69 crime.97 When he finally reaches this moment he breaks off from his story, saying that he is scared to say what happened next ([ὀκν]ῶ λέγειν τὰ λοίπ’, 81J). He then adds that perhaps his shame is unnecessary, but nevertheless he feels it (ἴσως δ’ αἰσχύνομαι

[ὅτ’] οὐδὲν ὄφελος· ἀλλ’ ὅμως αἰσχύνομαι, 81-2J). In the end, he never explicitly describes what happened that night, but simply says that later she became pregnant

([ἐκύ]ησεν ἡ παῖς, 83J). Clearly this moment is difficult for him to remember and he feels a great deal of guilt and remorse for his actions. At the same time, Moschion demonstrates that he also has a sense of responsibility. He did not deny his responsibility (οὐκ ἠρνησάμην [τὴν] αἰτίαν σχών, 84-5J) and vowed to marry the girl once their fathers both returned (ὑπεσχόμην γαμεῖν [καὶ ν]ῦν, ἐπὰν ἔλθῃ ποθ’ ὁ πατήρ,

86-7J). Moschion has made an error and feels deeply ashamed about it, yet this shame also spurs him to own up his mistake and do what he can to try to redeem himself.

Moschion is also motivated by shame in Act IV when he learns that Demeas has kicked Chrysis out of their house. Moschion asks why Demeas did this, but

Demeas tells him it is none of his business. Moschion brings up his worry about public opinion and asks his father what his friends will say when they learn about this

([τί τ]οὺς φίλους προσδοκᾷς ἐρεῖν πυθομένους; 630-1J). Demeas says to let him worry about that, but Moschion says that it would be ignoble of him to not concern himself

began. Another suggestion comes from Kassel, who uses οἴκοι, implying where this happened. Gomme and Sandbach use οἶμαι in their commentary, explaining that Moschion believed himself to be a spectator. They also present the possibility that it could read οἶμ’ ἐνθεαστής in which case the ε is accurate, but a σ is missing. In this reading Moschion would be saying that be thinks he became possessed. W.G. Arnott chooses to use οἴμοι in his edition. 97 Henry George Liddel and Robert Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, 9th ed. with a supplement (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 1206: Liddel and Scott define οἴμοι as an expression of pain, fright, pity, anger, grief, and surprise. While it might not be explicitly associated with shame, pain, fear, and grief are emotions associated with shame. Cf. Nic. Eth. 1128b and Rhet. 1383b

70 with the matter (ἀγεννὲς ἂν πο[οίη]ν ἐπιτρέπων, 632J). Demeas asks if Moschion will stop him and Moschion assures him that he will (ἔγωγε, 633J). In this case, Moschion is not worried about his own shame, but his father’s. This concern about his father’s sreputation, however, does not come out of fear for his own embarrassment, but out of a genuine concern for his father’s well-being. As he insists that Chrysis come back, he tells Demeas that he wants this for his sake (ἔνεκα σοῦ σπεύδω μάλιστα τοῦτο, 645J).

In Moschion’s view, it is best for his father’s reputation and happiness that Chrysis return, and so in this case his sense of shame does not encourage him to behave in his own interest, but in a way that serves another. The irony here, however, is that these actions portray him to Demeas as shameless rather than ashamed. Moschion’s insistence that Chrysis return, convinces Demeas that Moschion is conspiring against him. When Demeas makes Moschion admit that he is the father of the baby,

Moschion asks how Chrysis has done wrong. This response astonishes Demeas and makes him believe that Moschion is completely shameless (οὐδὲν ἐνθυμεῖσθε; 653J).

Soon after this, Nikeratos also draws the false conclusion that Moschion had slept with Chrysis and berates Moschion. Once the angered Nikeratos leaves to remove the woman from his house too, Moschion finally takes the opportunity to tell his father the truth. He tells his father that Chrysis is only doing him a favor and when

Demeas asks for what reason, Moschion confesses. Moschion, however, is reluctant to admit his crime and explains that he is not confessing willingly, but to ward off more severe accusations (οὐχ ἑκὼν λέγω μέν, ἀλλὰ μείζον’ αἰτίαν φυγὼν λαμβάνω

μικράν, 698-9J). He admits that he and Plangon are the parents and that was what he

71 wanted to hide (λαθεῖν δὲ τοῦτ’ ἐβουλόμην ἐγώ, 701J). Once again he does what he should because of his shame. However, I would argue his shame is not compelling him to what is right for its own sake, but rather for the sake of avoiding further shame.

He has avoided making this confession the entire play, but now he must, because if he does not, he will be accused of something even more shameful.

Although for the most part Moschion’s sense of shame is a positive motivator and causes him to act properly, at the end of the play it encourages him to act immaturely and unfairly. In the beginning of Act V, Moschion formulates a plan to trick his father into believing that he intends to desert and become a mercenary. He says that at first he was happy to have been cleared of this false charge (ἐγὼ τότε μὲν

ἧς εἶχον αἰτίας μάτην ἐλεύθερος γενόμενος ἠγάπησα, καὶ τοῦθ’ ἱκανὸν εὐτύχημ’ ἐμαυτῷ

γεγονέναι ὑπέλαβον, 788-91J). However, as he has thought it over, he has become indignant at his father’s suspicions (ἐξέστηκα νῦν τελέως ἐμαυτοῦ, καὶ παρώξυμμαι

σφόδρα ἐφ’ οἷς μ’ ὁ πατὴρ ὑπέλαβεν ἡμαρτηκέναι, 792-3J). He acknowledges that he must stay with Plangon, because he loves her, yet he also says that he cannot just ignore this incident. To disregard would be to act lowly (ταπεινῶς, 805J) and ignobly

(ἀγγενῶς, 805J). Moschion now no longer feels ashamed by what he has done wrong, but rather by how he was wrongly treated. Additionally, he is worried that if he does not take action against his father he will appear even more shameful. It is because of his shame that he decides to trick his father. However, his deception is selfish. The slave Parmenon informs him that the wedding is ready to commence and that the guests are waiting for him. Moschion is putting aside his responsibilities in order to

72 fulfill his revenge. Not only is this action selfish, but it is also unfair, as his father remarks. Demeas points out that when he suspected Moschion of doing wrong, he kept it hidden, but Moschion is now making Demeas’ error public (μάρτυρας ἐπ’ ἐμὲ

τῆς ἐμῆς ἀνοίας λαμβάνεις, 880J). Demeas had been considerate of Moschion’s reputation by keeping this supposed crime secret, but Moschion has been so blinded by shame that he does not care about embarrassing his father. Furthermore, this trick is unfair to Nikeratos, who seeing Moschion believes that the boy is running away.

Nikeratos then believes that Moschion, who has raped and impregnated his daughter, is attempting to escape his obligation to marry Plangon. Moschion’s act is affecting a second unintentional and completely undeserving victim. This part of the play shows that Moschion’s shame is not a perfect attribute, but has the possibility of causing unreasonable and rash behavior.

Because Moschion’s sense of shame helps explain so many of his actions, it is fair to call it a fundamental part of his character. However, his shame does not cause

Moschion to behave consistently. Likewise, it can influence his behavior positively and make him be reflective, but also can give him poor judgement over his actions. In this way, this one element of Moschion’s personality gives his character additional layers.

It is interesting to compare how Aristotle discusses shame in relation to how it is presented through Moschion. In the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle dedicates a section to shame (αἰδώς). He, however, claims that shame is not a virtue (περὶ δὲ

αἰδοῦς ὥς τινος ἀρετῆς οὐ προσήκει λέγειν, 1128b). It is more like a feeling (πάθος)

73 than a disposition (ἔξις). He defines shame as a fear of disrepute (φόβος τις ἀδοχίας,

1128b) and says it is comparable to fear of danger, noting how the ashamed man’s face turns red, and the scared man’s face turns white. These both seem to be bodily affections, which is why shame is a feeling rather than a disposition. He continues to say that shame is only suitable for the young. He explains that since young men live by feeling (διὰ τὸ πάθει ζῶντας, 1128b), they often make mistakes; thus, shame retrains them (ὑπὸ τῆς αἰδοῦς δὲ κωλύεσθαι, 1128b). Old men, however, are expected not to do anything worthy of shame and so their shame is not praiseworthy. He adds that the virtuous man, since he does not err, does not feel shame. Further he states that shame belongs to the base man and one capable of doing a shameful act (φαύλου δὲ,

καὶ τῷ εἶναι τοιοῦτον οἷον πράττειν τι τῶν αἰσχρῶν, 1128b). He adds that the only way a virtuous man can experience shame is conditionally, that is if he were to do something shameful, he would be ashamed, but conditional scenarios are not connected with virtue (οὐκ ἔστι δὲ τοῦτο περὶ τὰς ἀρετάς, 1128b).

The two major points from Aristotle’s passage on shame are, first, that shame is not a virtue. In fact, shame is acknowledgement that an unvirtuous deed was done.

Second, that shame is suitable to the young. Both of these qualities are relevant to

Moschion’s character and his sense of shame. When Moschion first mentions his shame he says that he is scared to say what he did next, that is, rape Plangon ([ὀκν]ῶ

λέγειν τὰ λοίπ’, 81J). He has committed a crime and consequentially feels ashamed, as one would expect. Yet, Moschion himself says he is not sure if he should be ashamed

(ἴσως δ’ αἰσχύνομαι [ὅτ’] οὐδὲν ὀφελος, 82J), despite his feeling of shame. Aristotle

74 addresses this type of uncertainty by saying there is no difference between truly shameful acts and those that are seen as shameful, because one ought not to do either

(εἰ δ’ ἐστὶ τὰ μὲν κατ’ ἀλήθειαν αἰσχρὰ τὰ δὲ κατὰ δόξαν, οὐθὲν διαφέρει· οὐδέτερα γὰρ

πρακτέα, 1128b). Thus Moschion’s claim that perhaps there is no need of his shame is a moot point, because actions of public disrepute are still shameful. Additionally,

Moschion’s age cannot be overlooked. The reason he raped the girl in the first place was because he was overcome by passion, which is precisely why Aristotle says that shame is acceptable for the young; they often make mistakes because of their feelings.

Aristotle says that shame is not a ἕξις, but rather a feeling. According to Aristotle, then, Moschion’s shame is not a part of his character, but rather a product of his youth, which is prone to err. Furthermore, as a πάθος rather than a ἕξις it is understandable why shame does not always motivate Moschion to act in the same fashion and in fact sometimes makes him act irrationally, for earlier Aristotle notes that people do not have control over πάθη; they are not matters of choice (1106a).

Aristotle also discusses shame in the Rhetoric. Here he provides an expanded definition of shame as pain or disturbance in regards to evils, past, present, or future, which bring dishonor (1383b). He also adds that shame can be felt for ourselves or those we care for (ἢ αὐτῷ ἢ ὧν φροντίζει, 1383b). Aristotle provides examples of deeds which bring shame such as sleeping with someone whom one should not sleep with or doing so when or where one should not (συγγενέσθαι οἷς οὐ δεῖ ἢ ὅπου οὐ δεῖ ἢ

ὅτε μὴ δεῖ, 1383b). He also says that men feel shame when they have suffered, are suffering, or will suffer reproach or defamation (πάσχοντες δὲ ἢ πεπονθόντες ἢ

75

πεισόμενοι τὰ τοιαῦτα αἰσχύνονται ὅσα εἰς ἀτιμίαν φέρει καὶ ὀνείδη, 1384a). Aristotle additionally acknowledges that since shame is connected to disrepute, one only worries about the opinion of another. Such people include both those who one admires and by whom one is admired, those who seem to be prudent for they are regarded as honest, like well-educated men and older men, and also those who have not seen one do wrong (1384a-b).

Moschion feels pain for a misdeed he himself committed, which corresponds with the definition in the Rhetoric. Yet this definition also acknowledges that one can feel shame on behalf of a loved one, as he does with Demeas. In regards to his own shame, it is interesting to note that the action that caused his shame appears in

Aristotle. His misdeed was raping Plangon, who as the daughter of a citizen should not have sex before her marriage. Therefore, Moschion slept with someone he should not have. In either case, the shame he felt because he raped Plangon would be considered a legitimate cause of shame according to Aristotle. Moschion also fears to admit this crime because he fears how his father and Nikeratos will react, out for shame for the reproach he will receive. Additionally, he feels ashamed when his father and Nikeratos believe that he slept with Chrysis and he is dishonored for that.

Both of these instances are examples of Moschion experiencing defamation, which

Aristotle says causes shame whether the experience is past, present, or future.

Demeas and Nikeratos resemble the type of person before whom, Aristotle says, one feels shame. Certainly Demeas is a man whom Moschion admires; in the beginning of the play Moschion describes the type of man his father is (τὸν

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ἐκείνου…τρόπον, 15J) and describes how Demeas raised him in luxury and helped him grow up. Demeas and Nikeratos are also, obviously, older than Moschion, which

Aristotle asserts contributes to feeling shame. Also, when Moschion describes his upbringing he says that he behaved himself, until the incident happened (ἦν κόσμιος.

μετὰ τοῦτο συνέβη, 27-8J). Raping Plangon and impregnating her was Moschion’s first major delinquency. His father up until then thought well of him. Because

Moschion admires Demeas, because Demeas is older, and because Demeas is not accustomed to Moschion making mistakes, it is understandable, according to the examples given in the Rhetoric, that Moschion feel ashamed.

It is also necessary to note that Aristotle never claims that one must have actually committed a shameful deed to feel ashamed. In fact, he prefaces his examples of things that cause shame by classifying them as evils that appear to be shameful

(ἀνάγκη αἰσχύνεσθαι ἐπὶ τοῖς τοιούτοις τῶν κακῶν ὅσα αἰσχρὰ δοκεῖ εἶναι, 1382b).

The fact that these causes of shame must seem shameful suggests that it is the appearance of a mistake, rather than the mistake itself, that produces shame. It is likewise important to note that Aristotle says these evils can have happened in the past, present, or future and therefore are not limited to a current appearance of fault.

Both of these points are relevant to understanding why Moschion feels ashamed at the end of the play, although he did not actually sleep with Chrysis and no one thinks he did. One can feel shame for what one has been only suspected of doing. Moschion feels ashamed because in the minds of Demeas and Nikeratos he had done a terrible deed.

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As Aristotle notes, shame is similar in nature to fear, and as such understanding Moschion’s cowardice is tantamount to understanding his shame. The first instance of Moschion acting like a coward occurs when he hears that Demeas has returned and Parmenon reminds him that he must talk to his father about what happened. Moschion remarks that he has become a coward now that the task is at hand (δειλὸς ἤδη γίνομαι, ὡς πλησίον τὸ πρᾶγμα γέγονε, 126J). Parmenon asks for him to elaborate what he means and Moschion explains that he is ashamed to face his father (αἰσχύνομαι τὸν πατέρα, 127J). The connection between Moschion’s sense of shame and his cowardice is recognized by Moschion himself. Yet, Parmenon sees an inconsistency in Moschion’s cowardice and asks why he does not also fear the girl he has wronged and her mother (τὴν δὲ παρθένον ἣν ἠδίκηκας τήν τε ταύτης μητέρα πῶς

οὐ τρέμεις; 127-9J). This is the first instance of Moschion’s fear preventing him from performing his obligations, but it is not the last.

Moschion also regularly exhibits fear. In Act IV, when Demeas confronted

Moschion about being the father of the baby, he tells his son to admit to Nikeratos who the mother of the child is. Moschion does not answer because he says it will be terrible to tell him (ἀλλὰ δεινὸν οὕτω γίνεται τοῦτο πρὸς τοῦτον λέγειν με, 662-3J), explaining that he will be furious when he learns. Moschion has the opportunity to finally do what he should have done in the beginning and confess his crime, but he is too afraid of Nikeratos’ reaction to follow through. Even after Nikeratos leaves and

Moschion tells Demeas the truth, he is still too afraid to confess to Nikeratos. Demeas sees that Moschion is afraid and tells him to be brave (θάρρει, 711J), but Moschion

78 runs away saying that he has died just seeing him (τουτονὶ τέθνηχ’ ὁρῶν, 711J). Thus in this scene, Moschion misses two opportunities to admit his mistake to Nikeratos because of his cowardice.

The last scene, in which Moschion pretends to be leaving to become a mercenary, might be his only display of bravery. In his monologue, Moschion fantasizes that if he were not in love and did not have an obligation to marry Plangon that he would go off to become a soldier. He says, however, that he will not do anything brave, because of Plangon (νῦν δ’ οὐ ποήσω διὰ σε, Πλαγγὼν φιλτάτη,

ἀνδρεῖον οὐθέν, 802J). By pretending to be a soldier, he tries to appear brave. Susan

Lape says that the play “offers Moschion two routes to manhood: owning up to his sexual indiscretion or leaving the polis to serve as a mercenary for one of the

Hellenistic rulers,”98 calling the latter option the “traditional route to democratic manhood.”99 Moschion has already failed in the first regard and, due to other obligations, cannot take the second route. He, however, tries to redeem his manhood by feigning to become a mercenary. In addition, he is not satisfied with appearing brave, he wants reverse roles and make Demeas feel afraid (αὐτὸν φοβῆσαι βούλομαι,

807J). Despite his resolve, Moschion’s cowardice returns later in the scene, when he considers the possibility that Demeas will be angry and let him go. He admits that he had not considered that before and worries what he will do in such a case (τί δεῖ ποεῖν;

856J). He realizes and fears that if he goes back on his threat he will look foolish

(γελοῖος ἔσομαι…ἀνακάμπτων πάλιν, 858J). Once Demeas comes out, Moschion tries

98 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 170 99 Ibid.

79 to stick to his trick, but his father does not buy it. Nikeratos, however, does assume that Moschion is running away and threatens to arrest him, because Moschion would be abandoning his legal obligation to marry the girl he raped. Moschion uses this opportunity to appear brave again and drawing his sword (δῆσον, ἱκετεύω, 891J), challenges Nikeratos to tie him up. Nikeratos, however, is not intimidated and orders

Moschion to drop the sword, which Moschion does after the behest of Demeas.

Moschion obeys saying that Nikeratos’ begging has succeed (ἀφείσθω·

καταλελιπαρήκατε δεόμενοι μου, 893-4J). The language Moschion chooses here contributes toward his attempt to appear courageous. The choice of ἀφείσθω, rather than a more obvious synonym, dramatizes Moschion’s action and the obscure intensive compound, καταλελιπαρήκατε, further emphasizes the irony of his statement.100 Moschion is purposely trying to appear almost arrogant in his bravery by standing up to Nikeratos. After he makes this remark Nikeratos becomes angry again and steps toward Moschion, who pretending to be afraid, asks Nikeratos if he is going to tie him up (δήσεις μ’ ἴσως, 894J). While he might believe this mockery of fear further suggests his bravery, it is greatly undercut by previous moments in the play, in which Moschion was legitimately afraid of Nikeratos. While this scene presents

Moschion appearing brave, ultimately it demonstrates this courage as a masquerade.

Aristotle discusses cowardice and fear in the Nicomachean Ethics and the

Rhetoric. In the former, cowardice is presented as the excess of fear in regards to the

100 Gomme and Sandbach, Menander, 629: Gomme and Sandbach note that καταλελιπαρήκατε is an intensive compound that was not used before Lucian and makes Moschion’s claim absurd. Likewise, ἀφείσθω is dramatic in effect, compared to the ordinary ἀφίημι or καταβάλλω.

80 virtue of courage (ἀνδρεῖα). Aristotle describes the courageous man as the sort who fears the right things, for the right reason, in a proper manner, and at the right time and who acts confident in the same way (1115a). Contrarily, the coward (ὁ δειλός) is one who displays an excess of fear, and a deficiency in confidence. Thus he fears the wrong things, for the wrong reasons, in an improper manner, and at inappropriate times (1115a). Aristotle calls the coward a despondent person who fears everything

(δύσελπις δή τις ὁ δειλός, πάντα γὰρ φοβεῖται, 1115a). Earlier, Aristotle describes the rash man (ὁ θρασὺς) as having an excess of fearlessness. Although, the rash man would seem to be the antithesis of the coward, Aristotle claims that the rash man is usually considered a fraud, who pretends to be more courageous than he actually is

(δοκεῖ δὲ καὶ ἀλαζὼν εἶναι ὁ θρασὺς καὶ προσποιητικὸς ἀνδρείας, 1115a). Therefore, most men who are rash are actually cowards (διὸ καὶ εἰσὶν οἱ πολλοὶ αὐτῶν

θρασύδειλοι, 1115a) and they act bold, but do not actually endure their fears. There are then two manners in which a coward might act, according to the Ethics; either he openly fears excessively, or he tries to disguise his fear as bravery.

In the instances where Moschion fears to admit the truth to both Demeas and

Nikeratos, he displays cowardice by fearing due to an improper cause and at an inopportune time. Valeria Cinaglia points out that “Menander describes [Moschion’s] relationship with his adoptive father as close and as allowing frank discussion. He knows that he does not have to be ashamed to talk to him about what he has done; however, he decides to conceal the truth.”101 She also adds in a footnote that

101 Cinaglia, Aristotle and Menander, 81

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Moschion has no reason to justify his fear that Demeas would not consent to the marriage, given his friendship with Nikeratos.102 Not only does Moschion lack good reason to be afraid, but the instances in which he avoids confessing the truth out of fear only cause further damage. In both of these senses, Moschion becomes afraid, when he should be brave, which demonstrates an excess of fear and lack of confidence.

As stated previously, his charade in Act V is an attempt to appear brave. In

Moschion’s mind, going off to become a mercenary would be an act of courage, and so by pretending to be a soldier he is mimicking bravery. Aristotle claims that the rash man only acts brave, but becomes a coward when he faces fear. Similarly, Moschion tries to act brave here. While waiting for Demeas, Moschion considers that his father might tell him to leave. The thought of Demeas causes him to become fearful and he loses confidence in his plan. The rashness of his behavior is further emphasized by his interactions with Nikeratos, an unarmed old man. He attempts to appear tough and bold before Nikeratos, but Nikeratos is unintimidated.

In the Rhetoric, Aristotle describes fear as a pain or disturbance resulting from the imagination of impending danger (1382a). Aristotle provides signs of imminent danger which can evoke fear such as the hostility and anger of those who are able to take action and those who have been wronged (1382a-b). Furthermore, things are more fearsome if one’s errors cannot be rectified (πάντα δὲ τὰ φοβερὰ φοβερώτερα,

102 Ibid.

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ὅσα, ἂν ἁμάρτωσιν, ἐπανορθώσασθαι μὴ ἐνδέχεται, 1382b). In this way, fear is concerned both with the source of danger and the circumstances around the danger.

The two people whom Moschion fears are his father and Nikeratos. One of the main reasons he fears these men is that he believes they will become angry with him.

When Moschion hears that Demeas has returned he is concerned about letting Chrysis keep the baby because his father will be mad (ὁ πατὴρ χαλεπανεῖ, 140J). Likewise, later in the play Demeas tells Moschion to confess his crime to Nikeratos. Moschion is afraid to do it because Nikeratos will become mad (χαλεπανεῖ γὰρ πυθόμενος, 663J).

In addition to their anger, Moschion has a right to fear Nikeratos because he has wronged him by raping Plangon and he is unable to undo this rape. Aristotle’s

Rhetoric also answers Parmenon’s question of why Moschion does not fear Plangon and her mother. Since fear is pain caused by impending danger, there must be a way for one to cause harm in order to fear them. With this in mind, Moschion has far more reason to be afraid of his father, or even Nikeratos, than either of the women.

Parmenon, as a slave, however, probably would not have this distinction of circumstance in mind, since either way he could be in a position of harm. In these regards, Moschion’s fear is instigated by causes recognized by Aristotle.

Theophrastus also addresses cowardice (δειλία). His treatment of the coward, however, focuses mainly on how such a man acts while at war. Although, Moschion never finds himself in the exact situations that Theophrastus describes, there are interesting parallels. Firstly, Theophrastus describes the coward through examples of his improper actions in military service, which is relevant to Moschion’s attempt to

83 appear brave by pretending to be a soldier. For instance, Theophrastus says that the coward pretends to have important duties when he faces confrontation and will do anything other than fight the enemy (πᾶν μᾶλλον ἢ μάχεσθαι τοῖς πολεμίοις, 25.5).

Theophrastus also says that the coward, covered in a comrade’s blood, will retell the story as if he had been the one in danger (25.6). There are certainly similar qualities used to portray the coward as they appear in Aristotle, both a shrinking from danger and exaggerating one’s own bravery, but these descriptions fit Moschion as well.

Theophrastus says that the coward will pretend he forgot his sword or will needlessly take care of an injured friend to avoid battle. Moschion on several occasions makes excuses and performs unnecessary tasks to avoid confronting his father and Nikeratos.

When he was supposed to prepare his confession for Demeas, instead he sacrificed, invited friends to the wedding, hummed wedding songs; he did things that seemed important, but were a distraction from his actual duty. Also, whereas Theophrastus’ coward costumes himself in the blood of a fellow soldier to appear brave, Moschion also dresses as a mercenary to make himself seem more courageous.

Moschion’s actions seem to align with what Aristotle says about shame and fear. His shame is a feeling over which he has no control. It teaches Moschion to behave properly and cause him grief when he does wrong. But because shame is a feeling and not a virtue, it does not direct Moschion to act consistently. His shame also informs his sense of fear, but he is prone to fearing improperly, when circumstances make it necessary for bravery. Both of these elements of his character explain why he baulks from confessing the truth to Demeas, why he runs away from

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Nikeratos, and why he pretends to become a soldier. The latter act is exceptionally logical given his character, because it provides him with an opportunity to redeem his reputation not only from being hurt by Demeas, but also from acting fearfully; by pretending to be a soldier he can redeem whatever shame he might feel from seeming like a coward.

Although these elements of his character explain much of Moschion’s behavior, his age and wealth also come into factor while analyzing the motivations of his character. Returning to Aristotle’s discussion of youth in the Rhetoric, there are several similarities between this description of young men and Moschion’s character.

The first quality of youth that Aristotle describes is that young men have strong sexual desire and are unable to control it (καὶ τῶν περὶ τὸ σῶμα ἐπιθυμιῶν μάλιστα

ἀκολουθητικοί εἰσι ταῖς περὶ τὰ ἀφροδίσια, καὶ ἀκρατεῖς ταύτης, 1389a). This might be the most obviously relevant to Moschion, since the entire conflict of the play originates from his inability to control his libido. Aristotle also says that they prefer doing what is noble over what is in their own interest, because they live by virtue rather than calculation (1389a). In his opening speech, Moschion acknowledges that he could have had a more economically sensible marriage (21-2J),103 but instead he swears an oath to marry Plangon, because he believes it is the noble thing to do (86-

7J). During this time in life, young men also love their friends the most. They take pleasure in living among company and judge nothing, including their friends, in terms of profit (μήπω πρὸς τὸ συμφέρον κρίνειν μηδέν, ὥστε μηδὲ τοὺς φίλους, 1389b).

103 W.G. Arnott, trans. and ed. “Samia,” by Menander, in Menander III (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000), 17

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When Moschion describes his upbringing, he mentions that he would spend money helping out friends in need (τῶν φίλων [τοῖς] δεομένοις τὰ μέτρ’ ἐπαρκεῖν ἐδυνάμην,

24-5J). The last quality of youth that Aristotle provides, is that the mistakes of young men are due to excess (καὶ ἅπαντα ἐπὶ τὸ μᾶλλον καὶ σφοδρότερον ἁμαρτάνουσι,

1389b). Likewise, they love and hate and in fact do everything in excess (1389b).

Moschion certainly errs because of a lack of self-control, not only the initial rape, but also everything that follows. It is an excess of fear and shame that prevents him from confessing, which only does further harm. Similarly, at the end of the play he decides to try to trick his father, an action caused by an excess of emotion. Moschion is, however, noticeably different from Aristotle’s description of young men as being exceptionally courageous (1189a), demonstrating quite the opposite character throughout the play.

Although the character of Moschion reveals many flaws, in some ways, these flaws speak on behalf of his character. For instance, his shame demonstrates that he recognizes that he has done wrong to Plangon. It also speaks about his love for his father, because he fears it will ruin Demeas’ opinion of him.

His father Demeas in some regards shares many similar elements of character, but he also possess qualities that are distinct to himself, which are relevant to his role in the play. If Moschion’s primary emotional traits are shame and fear, then Demeas’ are anger104 and mistrust. Demeas’ anger is one of the first qualities mentioned about him during the action of the play. Moschion is worried about Chrysis claiming to be

104 Konstan, “Crossing Conceptual Worlds,” 291

86 the mother of the baby, saying that his father will be furious (ὁ πατὴρ χαλεπανεῖ,

140J). Moschion does not seem to be alone in perceiving Demeas as the angry sort, but Chrysis, in her reassurance that all will be fine, affirms this characteristic. She says that he will calm down again (πεπαύσεται πάλιν, 140J) and assures that love makes even the most irascible man (ὀργιλώτατον, 143J) quickly make peace. This conversation reveals a little about the nature of Demeas’ anger; he might become very mad, but he is able to let go of his anger.

Demeas’ anger is seen on stage for the first time in Act II, when Moschion sees him and asks why he looks so mad (τί σκυθρωπάζεις; 225J). Demeas reveals that the reason for his sullen countenance is that he has just learned that his courtesan has become his wife without him knowing ([γ]αμετὴν ἑταίραν, ὡς ἔοικ’, ἐλάνθανον

[ἔχ]ων, 226-7J). He explains that she has had a son without his permission and says that the two of them can leave his house and go to hell (ἐς [κόρ]ακας ἄπεισιν, 229J).

Moschion objects to this, which shocks Demeas, since he has no intention of raising an illegitimate child. Moschion then gives him a speech about how birth does not determine a man’s virtue, but rather good men are considered legitimate and bad men bastards. Most of the text of the speech is corrupted, but it convinces Demeas and his anger subsides. This incident essentially plays out just as Moschion and Chrysis predicted. Moschion was right that his father would be angry about the child, but he was able to be soothed, as Chrysis said he would.

Demeas’ next angry episode, however, lasts throughout most of the play and contains varying levels and complexities, depending on whom the target of his anger

87 is. While in the pantry, he overheard that Moschion is the father of the child. At first he maintains that he is not angry yet (οὐκ ἀγανακτῶν οὐδέπω, 443J), but he says that when he considers the details (that he heard this from Moschion’s old nurse, that it was said without his presence being known, that Chrysis insisted on keeping it despite his wishes) that he becomes completely beside himself (ἐξέστηχ’ ὅλως, 451J). He then sees his slave Parmenon, who is the first subject of his ire, and interrogates him.

During this interrogation he repeatedly threatens Parmenon (σε μαστιγοῦν, 478J;

ἀπόλωλας, 487J; ἱμάντα…δότω, 493J; στίξω σε, 495J). His threats get Parmenon to admit that Moschion is the father. But these threats also cause Parmenon to run away before Demeas can get him to reveal who the mother is.

When Demeas is left alone he tries to calm himself down and convinces himself that Moschion must have been coerced into this act. Chrysis, on the other hand, he says, is entirely to blame. He calls her a whore (χαμαιτύπη, 520J) and scum

(ὄλεθρος, 520J) and tells himself to send her to hell headfirst (ἐπὶ κεφαλὴν ἐς κόρακας,

525J). Yet, in order to condemn her he must disregard his love for her. He tells himself to forget his desire and stop loving (ἐπιλαθοῦ τοῦ πόθου, πέπαυσε ἐρῶν, 522J) and when telling himself to kick her out calls her “the beautiful Samian woman” (τὴν

καλὴν Σαμίαν, 525-6J). Despite his tremendous wrath, he still is in love with Chrysis.

When Demeas confronts Chrysis he deliberately tries to be cruel, yet, there are still plenty of indications that he still loves her. At one point she starts crying and calls herself unfortunate (δύσμορος, 542J), Demeas repeats this mockingly (ναί,

δύσμορος, 542J), but admits aside that her tears rouse his pity (ἐλεινὸν ἀμέλει τὸ

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δάκρυον, 543J). He tells her to get out and immediately perish (ἀποφθείρου πότε,

545J). She tries pleading with him, but he is obstinate. While he is verbally abusing her, the cook steps in to try and explain the situation, but Demeas threatens him too

(κατάξω τὴν κεφαλήν, 560J). He finishes his cruel speech by telling her that she will meet the fate of other hetaerae; she will have to service parties for little money or starve to death (564-8J).

Moschion is the next person to experience Demeas’ wrath. When Demeas believes that his had slept with his lover, at first, Demeas tries peacefully to get

Moschion to back down. However, once Moschion says that he will stop Demeas from throwing Chrysis out, he becomes outraged and says that it is worse than everything else (634J). The full extent of Demeas’ anger is realized when Moschion says it is not good to completely succumb to rage like this ([ο]ὐ πάντα γὰρ ἐπιτρέπειν

ὀργῇ προσήκει, 635J). Yet it is not until Moschion asks how Chrysis is to blame that

Demeas loses all control and calls Moschion utter garbage (κάθαρμα, 653J).

Despite being harsh and cruel to both his lover and son, Demeas’ reaction is rather mild compared to Nikeratos’, who says that it is worse than Oedipus, Thyestes,

Tereus, and then like, and that he would have blinded Moschion, and he would have sold them both as slaves and calls Moschion’s crime “murder” (φόνος), a claim which even Demeas questions (ποίῳ φόνῳ; 865J). Even though Demeas was furious, he was relatively calm, considering his suspicions, and he even acknowledges that he suppressed his anger when he first heard (ταῦ[τα’ ἀκούσας, τὴν χολὴν] ἠδικημενός

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κατεῖχον, 677-8J). Once he learns the truth, he admits to Moschion that he had been wrong.

He then makes his apology to Chrysis by protecting her from Nikeratos. He defends her from Nikeratos even though he is stronger (κρείττων ἐστί μου, 747J). Not only is he completely calmed down by this point, but he is able to calm down

Nikeratos too. He walks with Nikeratos and tactfully explains what happened by alluding to the myths about how mortals have been mysteriously impregnated by the gods and then assures Nikeratos that Moschion will indeed marry Plangon. This strategy works and Nikeratos admits that some things are inevitable, but still he is upset that Moschion was not caught, implying that he would have killed Moschion without trial, as allowed by Athenian law.105 Even then Demeas reassures him that all will work out.

Demeas’ anger is fascinating because he experiences it at many levels of intensity and also it is confused with several other contradictory emotions as well. At certain points he expresses hatred towards Chrysis and Moschion, but he also loves them and is pained by having to be cruel towards them. Also remarkable is his ability to cool his temper. He is able to forgive Moschion when he believed he did commit the act, then able to apologize when he learned he had not, and likewise forgive

Chrysis. It is also noteworthy that as someone who experiences severe anger, he is able to calm down another furious man. Yet, his anger is a true obstacle for him and prevents him from learning the truth in several instances.

105 Zagagi, The Comedy of Menander, 137

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What seems to be the cause behind most of Demeas’ anger is his inclination towards suspicion and mistrust. He himself seems aware of his proclivity to suspicion. When he overheard the rumor about Moschion being the father he asserts to the audience that he is not suspicious (οὐχ ὑπονοῶ, 442J), but it is not quite true for he has already implied what he believes. Demeas’ suspicions do not always lead him to the worst conclusions. He could not believe that Moschion would intentionally harm him and he suspects that he must have been seduced by Chrysis (510-9J). A reoccurring condition of his suspicion is that everyone else is working against him.

He accuses Parmenon of conspiring to keep a secret (συγκρύπτεις, 480J), Moschion of working with Chrysis to wrong him (συναδικεῖ, 627J), accuses Moschion again of plotting against him (συνόμνυται, 646J). Even when Moschion admits the truth to

Demeas, he is hesitant to fully believe his son (μή με βουκολεῖς ὅρα, 702J). Demeas is quick to jump to conclusions. Even when he tries to control his suspicions, he does not try to be unassuming, but rather develops other possible presumptions.

Demeas also seems to be aware that his distrust is a burden. When he is fully convinced of the truth, he apologizes for being suspicious (οὐδὲν ἀδικεῖς, Μοσχίων,

ἐγὼ δὲ σε, ὑπονοῶν τοιαῦτα, 709-10J). While Nikeratos is enraged, Demeas blames himself and says he never should have been suspicious (ἐμὲ γὰρ ὑπονοεῖν τοιαῦτα τὸν

μιαρὸν ἐχρῆν, ἐμὲ, 723J). Once everything is resolved with Nikeratos he thanks the gods that nothing he had thought had turned out true (οὐθὲν εὑρηκὼς ἀληθὲς ὧν τότ’

ᾤμην γεγονέναι, 787J). Later in Act V, when he is again apologizing for his actions he

91 calls his beliefs his false suspicions (ἠγνόουν, 877J). Once he has learned that his presumptions were false, he immediately condemned his mistrust and suspiciousness.

While his anger and suspicion are two separate qualities, they strengthen and inform each other. While he does experience anger independently from suspicion, as when he first learns that Chrysis has a child, it is his suspicions that lead him to his most severe anger. Likewise, as his anger increases, so do his suspicions. At first he was able to convince himself that Moschion had not meant to do wrong, but as he grew angrier with his son he began to suspect that he and Chrysis were conspiring together. These two elements of Demeas’ character might not be responsible for creating the conflict of the play, but they certainly exasperate the conflict.

Anger has already been discussed in the context of the Dyskolos, but the anger of Demeas is of a different sort than that of Knemon. In the Ethics, Aristotle says that as a virtue anger is felt for the right reasons, against the right persons, in the right manner, at the right time, and for the right duration of time. Yet, if any of these conditions are exhibited too intensely then it is considered an excess of anger, of which there are four kinds: the irascible, the passionate, the bitter, and the harsh. It is, however, difficult to say that Demeas experiences anger in excess and Aristotle himself acknowledges that this is often the case, saying that it is not easy to define the limit of these conditions and when one acts excessively or deficiently (1126a). For many of these conditions it does seem like Demeas acted within the mean. His level of anger was not excessive; compare his reaction to Nikeratos’ hypothetical reaction.

He was not angry longer than he should have been; once he learned the truth, he was

92 placated. Even though he was wrong in his assumptions that caused his anger, it is difficult to say that he was at fault for drawing those conclusions and in turn wrong for being angry at the suspected parties. Perhaps, the one area where he is at fault was that he often became angry too soon, before he could learn all the details and before other people could tell him the truth. In this case he would be classified as one who experiences the passionate type of anger, ἀκρόχολος, which reflects how Demeas himself described his anger as χολή (677J).

Additionally, in the Rhetoric, in which anger is defined as desire for revenge accompanied by pain for an obvious undeserved belittlement to oneself or loved ones,

Aristotle claims that one of the conditions in which the angry man feels pain is when confronted with the opposite of what is expected happens, for just as when what is wished for happens, the greatly unexpected is most pleasant, when the unwanted happens it is most painful (1379a). People become angrier when something happens which they neither wanted nor expected. Additionally, the types of people with whom one becomes angry include those who cause pain and are accustomed to respect them, inferiors who oppose them, friends if they mistreat them, and those who do not notice that they cause pain (1379b). People become angry with those who anger them when they should be treated well by them.

In this regard, Demeas’ anger is understandable considering that he believes his beloved son slept with his concubine and impregnated her. In turn those with whom he is angry also fit into Aristotle’s categories. He is angry with Moschion, because he is used to being honored by his son (446J), but now feels that he is being

93 cuckolded and usurped. Similarly, he is mad at Chrysis because he considered her a friend, or at least a close and personal relation, and she apparently slept with his son and kept a child against his wishes. Additionally, Chrysis, as someone of lower- status, is expected to treat a citizen like Demeas with respect. Demeas is also shown being angry with Parmenon, the cook, and the slave women who miss Chrysis, all of whom are examples of inferiors opposing him. Lastly, when Chrysis expresses her confusion as to why Demeas is throwing her out and when Moschion asks how

Chrysis is at fault for the child, Demeas feels angry because those who hurt him are unaware that they have done so. Not only is the way in which Demeas experiences his anger complex, but there are numerous sources that cause his anger, each with a legitimate psychological foundation.

Theophrastus discusses suspicion in a section on distrust (ἀπιστία). The mistrust of this character, however, is vastly different than what Demeas exhibits.

Whereas Demeas is suspicious about the sexual activity of a young man and a courtesan while he is away, Theophrastus’ character seems more suspicious about people taking his money. Not only is the matter of their mistrust different, but the ways they act are unalike as well. The character that Theophrastus describes is very active in his mistrusting; if he sends a slave to buy something from the market, he has another slave spy on him; he constantly checks to make sure his money is securely locked away; he always brings witnesses if people owe him money. Demeas, on the other hand, does not actively engage his sense of mistrust, but rather seems to

94 involuntarily be drawn to it. He begins suspecting Moschion, by accident and he tries to find possible explanations to dispel his fears.

It seems particularly curious that Aristotle does not cover a similar topic in the

Ethics, because it seems that suspicion would be deficiency in regards to trust, with a reasonably discernable mean of trusting and an excess of trusting like, credulity. In this regard, it seems that Menander has elaborated on an aspect of character and virtue of the less apparent importance to Aristotle.

Additionally, Demeas’ character as an old man differs in many ways from how

Aristotle describes old men in the Rhetoric. For instance, Aristotle states that they are often illiberal with money (ἀνελεύθεροι, 1389b), we know from Moschion, however, that Demeas spoiled him (ἐτρύφησα, 16J) and gave him the funds for public services and games. Aristotle claims that old men feel neither love nor hate strongly (1389b), in contrasts to Demeas, who, as Chrysis states, is badly in love (ἐρᾳ…κακῶς, 141J).

Demeas himself admits his strong love for Chrysis when he convinces himself to throw her from the house.

Aristotle also says that old men are generally shameless (ἀναίσχυντοι) and do not care what people think (1390a). Moschion, however, tells us Demeas kept his relationship with Chrysis a secret out of shame (ἔκρυπτε τοῦτ’, ᾐσχύνετ’, 32J).

Additionally, there are several instances in the play where Demeas acts ashamed or turns to the audience for their opinion. For instance, after he overheard that Moschion is the father he wonders whether the father is he or, and instead of saying the possibility he says, “Oh gentlemen, I will not tell you that” (οὐ λέγω, ἄνδρες, πρὸς

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ὑμᾶς τοῦτ’ ἐγώ, 441J). There is one claim that Aristotle makes about old men that is rather important in relation to Demeas’ character, namely, that old men are suspicious because of their mistrust, and mistrustful because of their experience (ἔτι δὲ

καχύποπτοι εἰσι διὰ τὴν ἀπιστίαν, ἄπιστοι δὲ δι’ ἐμπειρίαν, 1389b). While this is not quite provide a full outline of the makeup of the suspicious character, it provides a little more insight as to why Demeas might be so presumptuous. In general, however,

Demeas as an old man is rather different in character than Aristotle’s description and even from Knemon and Kallippides.

The fact that Demeas differs from typical stock characteristics of old men is noted by Grant, who points out that he bears similarities of stereotypical young men; he falls in love with a prostitute; he mistakenly thinks he has lost her to another; he spontaneously arranges a wedding.106 Similarly, Sander Goldberg notices this reversal of roles.107 It is in his resemblance of youth, that Demeas portrays certain elements of

Plato’s democratic man. It is clear that Demeas is passionately in love with Chrysis

(ἐ<πι>θυμίαν, 30J; ἐρᾷ, 141J; τοῦ πόθου/ ἐρῶν, 522J). Now there is nothing intrinsically young about being in love, but Moschion urged Demeas to take in Chrysis to avoid contending with young rivals (ἀντεραστῶν μειρακίων, 35J); Demeas’ particular relationship is one more suited for young men, demonstrated through the comparison of Chrysis’ other suitors. Furthermore, this relationship is one that would be considered shameful, yet he still pursues it.108 Plato describes the democratic man

106 Grant, “The Father-Son Relationship,” 180-2 107 Goldberg, The Making of Menander’s Comedy, 94 108 Lape, Reproducing Athens, 148

96 as both being moved by his passions and also willing to chase his passions regardless of shame (560e). Further, Plato characterizes the democratic man as one who acts impulsively (ὅ τι ἂν τύχῃ λέγει τε καὶ πράττει, 561d), which is how Demeas is portrayed through his unfounded suspicions and actions based on them.109

Additionally, Demeas’ resolve to arrange a marriage between Moschion and Plangon, who comes from a poorer family, is evidence of his generosity.110 This sort of unprofitable liberality towards the poor is also noted by Plato as a characteristic of the democratic man (560d). Demeas, however, does not always display these qualities, but seems to have some control over his appetites. Plato, likewise, describes that as the democratic man becomes older he leaves the part of his life with the greatest strife

(ἀλλὰ τι καὶ πρεσβύτερος γενόμενος, τοῦ πολλοῦ θορύβου παρελθόντος, 561b). Once he grows up, the democratic man regains some of his paternal characteristics which he had dismissed (561b). Demeas is not shown in the height of his democratic soul, but rather after age has subdued him a little.

According to Plato the democratic man begets the tyrannical man. However,

Menander seems more optimistic in the type of son Demeas raises. There are, however, still some similarities between Moschion and the tyrannical man. Plato describes the tyrannical man as being raised according to his father’s character (ἐν τοῖς

τούτου αὖ ἤθεσι τεθραμμένον, 572d), which is one driven by passions and prone to liberality. Comparatively, Moschion tells us that he was spoiled as a child (ἐτρύφησα,

16J). Similar to the democratic man, the tyrannical man is also driven by his passions,

109 Cinaglia, Aristotle and Menander, 100 110 Keuls, “The Samia of Menander,” 10

97 however, his passions drive him towards lawlessness (ἀγόμενον τε εἰς πᾶσαν

παρανομίαν, 572e). Like his father, Moschion is provoked by his passions, but whereas Demeas’ desires are perfectly legal, Moschion’s lead him to rape Plangon.

Because of his misdeeds, the tyrannical man lives in constant fear of how others will treat him (579), which in turn is similar to Moschion’s cowardly character.

The comparisons of the democratic man and tyrannical man to Demeas and

Moschion are general. Both Demeas and Moschion are able to live more justly and orderly than the characters of these constitutions according to Plato. The relationship between father and son and the relative disorder in their souls, however, is comparable. The general description that Plato provides is that a man who is driven by his passions and prone to over-generosity will raise a son who has even less control over his passions and will be more likely to make wrong choices. This progression is apparent in Demeas’ and Moschion’s relationship and it seems obvious that

Moschion’s spoiled childhood has not always benefitted his character.

In many regards, it seems the philosophers do not provide many categories in which Demeas’ character fits and as a result the character is quite complex in its own regard. Demeas, in his dominant personality traits, suspicion and anger, is mostly overlooked by the philosophers. While there is quite a bit written about anger, the philosophers do not discuss the experience of anger quite how Demeas undergoes it.

While Aristotle recognizes a similar condition under which one feels anger and similar types of people who cause anger, the most interesting aspect of Demeas’ anger is the great amount of love that accompanies it. This is not to say that there is no room for

98 loving those who cause anger in Aristotle’s framework, as one does not expect to be mistreated by a loved one, but rather Aristotle does not directly address the complicated issue. Even in the most basic element of Demeas’ character, his age, he seems to act outside of typical stereotypes. In many aspects, Demeas defies expectations surrounding traditional notions of character. At the end of the play, he is the one who undergoes a development of character, while Moschion seems to remain the same.

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Chapter 4: Conclusion

In my comparisons of characterization in the Dyskolos and Samia with the philosophical works, I have noted instances where Menander and the philosophers not only are interested in similar character types, but also present these character types in comparable ways. I made these comparisons by observing important elements of

Menander’s characters and analyzing the ways in which Menander presents these qualities. I then compared Menander’s presentation of these characteristics to the ways in which philosophers have presented similar qualities. These comparisons reveal times when Menander and the philosophers demonstrate character through similar examples. It is important to analyze, however, Menandrean characterization in the broader context of the techniques of literary characterization.

Koen De Temmerman describes the methods of literary characterization, many of which are recognized by both modern and ancient writers.111 De Temmerman notes three basic methods: name-giving, direct, and indirect. Indirect characterization is further divided into three separate categories: metaphorical, metonymical, and setting, which has elements of both metaphorical and metonymical characterization. Both metaphorical and metonymical characterization have multiple methods through which they might be expressed. Metaphorical characterization is the result of either comparison to objects and animals or comparison to a mythological, historical, or literary person. Metonymical characterization, on the other hand, is characterization

111 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 29

100 based on emotions, group membership, actions, speech, or appearance. Setting qualifies as either metonymical or metaphorical characterization based on whether the relationship between the person and place informs the character, or if the relationship between the two is being used as a means of comparison.112

It is noteworthy that while Menander uses all these various types of characterization my comparison of characterization in the works of Menander and the philosophers has dealt almost exclusively with metonymical characterization. This was not intentional, but an understandable technique given the superficial nature of the other methods. Metonymical characterization is presented through plain facts and therefore character must be inferred, whereas the other forms of characterization are presented through explicit narratorial or authorial interpretation.113 Direct characterization is an explicit statement about character. Name-giving, while more implicit, still presents character in an overt manner. Likewise, while metaphorical characterization is an indirect characterization technique, it functions by making a direct comparison of character. While metonymical characterization still suggests character based on social and cultural assumptions, the interpretation of character is left to the reader or viewing audience.114 It is also through metonymical characterization that character development is shown.115 These other methods of characterization can play a more substantial role, like in the ancient novel which is what De Temmerman is writing about. However, the dramatic medium relies upon

112 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 41 113 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 130 114 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 131 115 De Temmerman, Crafting Characters, 135

101 characterization through spoken word and costume, which relate to metonymical characterization. In this regard, metonymical characterization allows for a more substantial comparison of characterization, because it forces the audience to recognize attributes that denote character. There is little room for comparison among these other techniques other than one can say whether or not two authors use the same names, metaphorical examples, or explicit designations of character, which are all rather superficial comparisons.

The similarities and differences between Menander and the philosophers seem to be found in particular types of metonymical characterization. Their use and presentation of emotions, actions, and speech have many interesting parallels. For instance, in regards to emotion, both Aristotle and Menander demonstrate that anger comes with a desire for revenge; in actions, Theophrastus and Menander both show that the coward will pretend to be braver than he is; and in speech, Theophrastus and

Menander present the grouch as one who tends to curse at others. Aspects of group association also have comparable relevance in characterization. Plato and Menander both present parentage, birth, and rearing as directly influential over a person’s character. It is in group association, however, that the most dissimilarities are found between Menander and the philosophers, particularly in regards to wealth and class.

While Aristotle, Theophrastus, and Plato all present wealth and class as being fundamental in evaluating one’s character, in the Dyskolos Menander demonstrates that these qualities often are irrelevant to character and portrays both the poor and rich as having characters contrary to prejudicial expectations.

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With these comparisons of characterization, it seems to me that in many aspects Menander and the philosophers were thinking about character and how it is developed in similar ways. Some of the similarities reflect rather universal sentiments, such as anger resulting from being mistreated by someone who ought to be respectful. Other similarities, however, are interestingly specific, such as both

Aristotle and Menander portraying the use of ἴσως and οἴoμαι to be characteristic of old men. There are not enough of these specific lexical parallels, however, to warrant the conclusion that Menander was writing his characters with examples from these philosophers explicitly in mind. This may have been the case; however, we lack the data to support so strong a conclusion. Rather, the parallels I have noted suggest that

Menander was crafting his characters with insight into what produces character similar to the analysis found in the philosophers.

Where Menander and the philosophers diverge in the presentation and analysis of character is also noteworthy, because it allows for discussion about their intentions for writing and their socio-political views. Menander’s most significant divergence with the philosophers occurs in the utilization of group-association for character: in particular age and social class. This suggests which elements of character Menander deems most important. The philosophical writings treat group-association as a reliable predictor of behavior, along with emotions actions, and speech. A person’s character is manifested through these factors. This is not in Menander. In the Dyskolos,

Gorgias and Sostratos act contrary to what is expected of young men in their respective classes. Sostratos does not want to take advantage of the poor and Gorgias

103 does not want to rely upon the rich. Even Knemon, whose anger is typical of all Attic farmers according to Chaireas (129-30), explains and defends his character in an unexpected way. In the Samia, Demeas, an old man, acts in a way that is like a young man. Menander presents these social factors in his plays and even hints at their stereotypical qualities, but he demonstrates that emotions, actions, and speech play a more important role in determining character.

Also, while I have attempted to separate this thesis from philosophical evaluation, perhaps now is the time to embrace it. There is possibly an ethical utility to studying characterization: acknowledging our social prejudices, realizing how experience factors into our development, understanding the causes of our emotions. It is important to remember that while literary characterization, to some degree, may be an attempt at realistic representation, the resulting characters are created to intentionally fulfill some purpose for the written work.

While I intentionally chose the Dyskolos and Samia because I believed they allowed for the best comparisons to the philosophical texts, I do not believe that the discussion is limited to these two plays. As I mentioned in my introduction, scholars like David Konstan and Susan Lape have already made comparisons between the

Perikeiromene and Aristotle’s Ethics. While Konstan and Lape were making ethical comparisons, their arguments are relevant to a discussion of character. Likewise, I can see room for comparison in other plays by Menander. For instance, the old, greedy

Smikrines from the Aspis bears many similarities to Aristotle’s description of old men in the Rhetoric and Theophrastus’ depiction of the cheapskate, the μικρολόγος.

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Additionally, R.L. Hunter notes that four of Menander’s plays, the Agroikos, Apistos,

Deisidaimon, and Kolax, bear the same names as four of Theophrastus’ characters.116

There can never be a full comparison made between Menander and these philosophers, because the philosophers ignore a significant portion of the characters who appear in Menander’s plays. Aristotle, Plato, and Theophrastus do not address the characters of women and slaves in their writings, but focus only on citizen men.

Contrarily, Menander’s plays regularly present slaves and women and sometimes these characters have the most important roles in the play, as in the Perikeiromene and

Aspis. The study of how Menander characterizes these generally ignored segments of society would lend itself the subject of an entirely other paper.

To this very day, people read and study the writings of these philosophers.

Some use them as ways to examine how people have analyzed human characters and traits, while others use them as moral teachings. Menander, however, is not a household name like Plato or Aristotle and is not as commonly read today. In comparing the ways in which these authors present character, I have noted that not only does Menander present similar ideas about how character is formed and the role it plays in human interaction, but he incorporates a fuller perspective of society.

Perhaps the presentation of character more relevant to our own time is found in the works of a comedian than these philosophers.

116 Hunter, The New Comedy, 148

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