Negotiating Gender Norms in Ovid's Heroides

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DEFIANT MAIDENS AND SUBMISSIVE WIVES OUT OF PLACE: NEGOTIATING GENDER NORMS IN OVID’S HEROIDES A FEMINIST CLASSICIST RESEARCH ON THE OCCURRENCE OF GENDER TRANSGRESSION IN OVID’S HEROIDES

Klassieke masterproef

Aantal woorden: 26 177

Ann- Sofie Adams

Studentennummer: 01403702

Promotoren: Prof. Dr. Wim Verbaal (promotor), Prof. Dr. Chia Longman (co- promotor)

Masterproef voorgelegd tot het behalen van de graad Master in Gender en Diversiteit

Academiejaar: 2018-2019

Deze masterproef is een examendocument dat niet werd gecorrigeerd voor eventueel vastgestelde fouten. In publicaties mag naar dit werk worden gerefereerd, mits schriftelijke toelating van de promotor(en) die met naam op de titelpagina is vermeld.

TABLE OF CONTENTS PREFACE ...... 1 ABSTRACT ...... 3 INTRODUCTION ...... 3 Feminist classicist research on antiquity and Ovid’s Heroides ...... 6 PART I: THE TANTALISING NATURE OF FEMINISM: REACHING A “DEFINITION” OF FEMINIST CLASSICIST RESEARCH AND GENDER TRANSGRESSION ...... 11 1. Chapter I- A Sisyphean task: defining feminist classicist research ...... 11 1.1. Bra-burning, non-shaving miscreants: what is (a) feminis(m)(t)? ...... 11 1.2. One step at a time: what is feminist research? ...... 14 1.3. A problematic union: feminism and classicism ...... 16 2. Chapter II- Walking the thin line between acceptable and wanton behaviour: gender transgression in antiquity ...... 20 2.1. Gender and transgression reconsidered: a feminist classicist perspective ...... 20 2.2. Crossdressers and manly women: breaking and confirming gender patterns in antiquity 25 PART II: DEFIANT AND COMBATIVE WOMEN: GENDER TRANSGRESSION IN OVID’S HEROIDES ...... 31 3. Chapter III- The transgressive nature of (writing) women and epistolary amorous fiction ...... 33 3.1. The male side of the picture: gender transgression inherent to the author and the genre 33 3.2. The female side: defiant women picking up the pen ...... 36 4. Chapter IV- Gendered spaces transgressed: the faithful wives and helper maidens of the Heroides ...... 37 4.1. The subtle deviance of faithful wives in their designated space ...... 39 4.2. The not so subtle combativeness of roaming helper maidens ...... 51 Conclusion ...... 64 Works cited ...... 66 Primary sources ...... 66 Secondary sources ...... 66

Appendix ...... 71 Summary of the Heroides ...... 71 Penelope- Ulysses ...... 71 Phyllis- Demophoon ...... 71 Briseis –Achilles ...... 71 Phaedra- Hippolytus ...... 71 Oenone- Paris ...... 71 Hypsipyle- Jason ...... 71 Dido- Aeneas ...... 71 Hermione- Orestes ...... 72 Deianira- Hercules ...... 72 Ariadne- Theseus ...... 72 Canace- Macareus ...... 72 Medea- Jason ...... 72 Laodamia- Protesilaus ...... 72 Hypermestra- Lynceus ...... 72 Sappho- Phaon ...... 73

PREFACE Cui dono lepidum novum labellum

Arido modo pumice expolitum

(Catullus, Carmen I, 1-2)1

What better way to start this dissertation than with the eternalised words that marked the first poem of one of my favourite Latin poets, Catullus? It seems only fitting that these words should form the beginning of the text that marks the end of a life-phase. About seven years ago, I had my first encounter with Catullus and it was love at first sight. Curiously, though, this love was not inspired by those romantic passages in which Catullus confesses his undying love for his Lesbia, but rather by those in which he chides and scorns her for not answering his feelings. In quite an non-feminist manner, these passages always leave tears in my eyes (of laughter, just so we are clear) and a smile on my face. Though I might once have considered these feelings irreconcilable with my feminist principles, I feel like I now know better. Feminism and antiquity, though seemingly contradictory at first glance, can be reconciled, something that my own personal trajectory appears to prove.

Thus it seems appropriate to engage with a bit of nostalgia, having come at what (hopefully) will be the end of my academic career as a student. Did I ever think when I embarked on this journey five years ago that I would have ended up where I am now? Absolutely not. Deciding to study languages, and Latin to boot, was a bit of a leap in the dark, not knowing whether I would fall majestically on a hard surface or whether soft cushions were there to break my fall. I started this journey tentatively, not really knowing where I was going. My path seemed to become clearer to me with every step I took, though. I am a firm believer of fate (how could I not, having read all those Latin texts, all those myths where that elusive fate plays such an important part?). And so I believe it was fated that, during the course of those four years I found myself more and more attracted to that elusive thing called “feminism”. This was one of those aha-moments that I would and had encountered in the past few years.

In the past few years I have found myself. It may sound like a cliché, but there you have it. Every course that I took, every fellow student I encountered, every professor that bored me to death, or brought me to tears. But also those, that inspired a lasting affection for whatever subject matter they taught me. All these people have made me into the woman I am today. It may have cost me blood, sweat and tears, but somehow, almost like magic, I ended up exactly where I feel I am supposed to be. I belong where I am. Quite an accomplishment, I would think.

To whom, then, should I dedicate this unidentified collection of pages? First of all, to all those people listed above. But perhaps, most importantly I dedicate this work to those amazing people, my fellow classicists, who made the past five years unforgettable. As for as I am concerned, they are not only

1 The Latin text and its translation was taken from Goold (1913). “ To whom am I to present my pretty new book, freshly smoothed off with dry pumice-stone?”

1 friends for life, but also family. So, this is for them, to those people who have helped shape me into the person that I am today.

ABSTRACT This research aims at proving the relevance of feminist classicist research by examining the occurrence of gender-related transgressive behaviour in Ovid’s Heroides. By separating the letters into two categories, according to both the breaking/confirmation of the gendered spaces and the type of story, we illustrate how the heroines of the Heroides play around with gender norms, both breaking and confirming them at the same time.

Dit onderzoek heeft als doel om de relevantie van feministisch classicistisch onderzoek aan te tonen aan de hand van een onderzoek naar gender-gerelateerd grensoverschrijdend gedrag in Ovidius’ Heroides. Door de brieven in twee categorieën onder te verdelen, op basis van zowel het doorbreken/bevestigen van gegenderde ruimtes, als het type verhaal, illustreren we hoe de heldinnen van de Heroides speels omgaan met gendernormen door ze zowel te overschrijden als te bevestigen.

INTRODUCTION “He was always so plausible. Many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seductresses, a few one-eyed monsters. Even I believed him, from time to time. […] Now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my turn to do a little story-making.”

Penelope in Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad (2005), p. 2-3

“[…] just how deeply embedded in Western culture are the mechanisms that silence women, that refuse to take them seriously, and that sever them […] from the centres of power? This is one place where the world of the ancient Greeks and Romans can help to throw light on our own. When it comes to silencing women, Western culture has had thousands of years of practice.”

Mary Beard- Women and Power: A Manifesto (2017), p. x-xi

“His story. His, not mine. It ends at his grave. […] Once, not so long ago, I tried to walk out of Achilles’ story- and failed. Now, my own story can begin.”

Briseis in Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls (2018), p. 324

The Trojan War. That thrilling tale of the ten-year conflict fought by epic heroes, like Achilles and Odysseus, finally culminating in the destruction of Troy. But also the story of Helen, “the face that launched a thousand ships”, as Christopher Marlowe called it. A story of limitless love? Or a story of rape? An enigma that neither ancient nor modern authors could quite figure out. Helen represented only one of the many women that formed a part of the story about the fall of Troy. What about Briseis, Penelope, Oenone, Laodamia? What about the stories of these and other silenced women? Feminism, like other social movements, has for centuries strived to break the silence, giving voices to those who have been mute during most of history: women. A same impulse lies behind the works of the two authors we have cited above, who have allowed female characters to narrate their

3 experiences of the Trojan War for themselves. The idea to give female characters a chance at storytelling is hardly a modern one, though. Two thousand years ago the Roman author Ovid (43 BC- 17 AD) decided to do the exact same thing in his Heroides. Was Ovid a feminist, then? That might be a bit of a far stretch. We can, however, state that his Heroides are interesting at the least from the perspective of a movement that has always aimed at voicing the experiences of women. Strangely enough, though, the Heroides has not yet received much feminist scholarly attention, a wrong we wish to right.

In this research, then, we aim to illustrate how and why the Heroides forms such an interesting subject of feminist research by applying a feminist classicist perspective to the text. The marriage between feminism and classical studies that forms the basis of this research seems to be a contradiction in terms, as much doomed to failure as the endeavours of the heroines of the Heroides. Nevertheless, feminist classical studies has strived to overcome the limitations inherent to both the classics and the classicist (McManus, 1997) by adopting characteristics of feminist research in general. Whether feminist classical studies has succeeded at this remains a question to be answered, though not one that will be sufficiently addressed in this research. Through our research, however, we hope to show that a union between feminism and classical studies is definitely feasible. Moreover, we wish to illustrate the relevance and importance of feminist classicist studies for feminist research in general; though somewhat isolated, feminist classicist studies( and consequently, antiquity) remain vital for understanding women’ experiences in the present (Foxhall, 2013; Gold, 1993; Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993). In this research we aim at proving this by focussing on the occurrence of gender-related transgressive behaviour (or gender transgression, as it is more commonly known) in the Heroides. Gender transgression, as we will illustrate, forms a relevant subject for feminist research and looking at its occurrence in the Heroides can give us valuable insights in how women from antiquity in general already transgressed gender norms that in some forms have survived up until today. As the quote by Mary Beard (2017) emphasises, antiquity is vital in understanding the power structures that have tried to silence women for centuries.

Several steps, naturally, are taken in order to conduct this research. The first part of the research focuses on outlining the theoretical aspect. Consequently, a first chapter is devoted to determining what makes our approach a feminist classicist one by figuring out what constitutes both feminism and feminist research, and next feminist classicist scholarship. Next, in a second chapter, we turn our attention to the second part of our thesis statement, namely gender transgression. Gender transgression is, of course, a broad term. After determining the meaning of the words “gender” and “transgression”, and subsequently combining them, we turn our attention to the context of antiquity and the occurrence of gender transgression in this context. After having thus paved the way with theoretical considerations, we enter the realm of the Heroides itself. Here, a first chapter is devoted to the genre of the text and how the nature of the text invites the occurrence of gender transgression. In the second chapter we immerse ourselves into the actual story-world of the Heroides, examining how gender transgression occurs in the stories themselves. By dividing the single letters into two groups according to their gendered spaces and the type of story, we aim to examine how gender transgression is represented in the Heroides. Thus we hope to prove how valuable a contribution feminist classical research can be to feminist research. It is time to break the

4 academic silence surrounding the women of the Heroides, because even after all this time, they still have quite the stories to tell.

Feminist classicist research on antiquity and Ovid’s Heroides Before we start, it is important to give an overview of the existing research that relates to our study. We set off with a short history of feminist classicist research with the intention of highlighting why our research forms a valuable contribution to this still growing field. Next, we turn our attention to feminist classicist studies on Ovid and the Heroides in order to show how our research fills in a gap left open by researchers in this field of study.

Some time before the emergence of feminist classicism, classicist scholars already paid attention to the role of women in antiquity. Already at the beginning of the twentieth century the first studies on this subject started to appear. For instance, Carroll published his first two volumes in the series Woman: in all ages and in all countries on Greek and Roman women respectively in 1907; though unsuccessful, this research still remained significant for its woman-centred approach (McManus, 1997). However, Carroll proved to be an exception; most male classicists who turned their attention to the women of antiquity merely focussed on the status of women, while little thought was spared for women’s subjective experiences (McManus, 1997). Thus this type of research, despite focussing on women, was not feminist in nature, neither did it challenge the androcentric nature of traditional classicism (McManus, 1997).

A new scholarly approach to the study of Greek and Roman women slowly emerged under the influence of second-wave feminism, eventually leading to the emergence of the field of feminist classicism (McManus, 1997). Under influence of the growing discipline of feminist research, classicist studies on women in antiquity started to change its perspective, gradually adopting some of the main characteristics of feminist research (McManus, 1997)2. A boom in studies on women from antiquity was the not so surprising result and in ’75 Pomeroy set the tone for the publications of the next decade with her book Goddesses, Whores, Wives, and Slaves: Women in Classical Antiquity (McManus, 1997). In the 80s, various book-length studies on the subject of women in antiquity saw the light in numerous variations on the title “Women in antiquity”3; the number of journal publications also steadily increased (McManus, 1997).

The quick growth in publications soon led to a need for a critical assessment of the relatively new field of feminist classicist studies. Some ten years after Pomeroy’s ground-breaking publication, Skinner (1987) provided the first critical review of feminist classicist studies at a point in time when the field was still in full development. She concluded that, whilst classicism had made some changes in its androcentric position under the influence of feminism, it still had a long way to go. In other words, in her opinion feminist classicism had not yet come into existence. There was female classicism, for sure, but these female classicists did not fully reject the androcentric nature of classicism nor did they adopt a real feminist perspective. Consequently, Skinner (1987) called for a

2 We will later explain in more detail how feminist classicism emerged as a field and what its relation to feminism was characterised by. 3 Our works-cited list contains a number of these publications: Cameron & Kuhrt (1984), Cantarella (1987), Fantham (1986), Foley (1984) and Gardner (1987).

6 bigger transformation in classical studies in order for it to become more comfortable for women and more suitable for a feminist perspective.4

In the years that followed, it seems like feminist classicists took Skinner’s (1987) suggestions on board and even more feminist studies about women in antiquity were published. However, in the 90s the need to reassess the connection between feminism and classical studies was deemed necessary yet again. In this period, two influential works on this subject were published: Feminist Theory and the Classics, edited by Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993), and McManus’s Classics and Feminism: Gendering the Classics (1997). Both address the relationship between feminism and classicism in their own way. Firstly, Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993), by critically reviewing classical studies and pointing out the problems that arise when trying to combine classicism and feminism hope to “throw a line over a ravine that has blocked many of us who work in both fields” (Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993, p. 1). The purpose of their research, then, is the following: “Building on the work done before, while adopting critical perspectives that enable us to look at antiquity afresh, we have tried to make our work public in a way that will make feminist theory and classics mutually accessible to one another”(Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993, p. 2). Most of the volume, then, consists of case studies, articles that strive to show how a combination of classicism and feminism is possible. To summarise, according to Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993) , classical studies change rather slowly but feminist theory can prove to be the impulse it needs to transform itself. This transformative potential of feminist theory is precisely what McManus (1997) discusses in her work. In contrast to Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993), McManus (1997) does not look at the problematic relationship between classicism and feminism but rather examines the impact feminist thought has had on classicism, thus leading to the emergence of feminist classicism. Tracing the gendering of both the classics and the classicist5, she then turns to a survey of classical scholarship, examining how the publications in this field have been influenced by the insights brought by feminist thought. Contrarily to Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993), McManus (1997) only included one case-study, Vergil’s Aened, in order to prove how a feminist perspective can lead to a different reading of the classics. The major flaw in McManus’ work (1997), however, is that, whilst she recognises how feminist thought can contribute to the study of the classics, she does not point out the valuable insights classicism can bring to feminism. This relationship of mutual reinforcement is, however, pointed out by Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993). Both works, then, seem to complement one another; whilst Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993) point out the gap between feminism and classicism and illustrate how this can be bridged, McManus (1997) goes into more detail on how feminist thought has transformed classicism and has made a union possible. In other words, both studies have paved the way for feminist classicist research.

Their goal is, in some ways, also quite close to our own; we also hope to adopt critical perspectives that will allow us to look at the Heroides, and, by consequence, antiquity from a new perspective and that will show how a feminist perspective on antiquity can be valuable. Somehow, in the twenty six years that have elapsed since these publications, the gap between feminism and classicism, though somewhat smaller, has still not been closed, and new perspectives on antiquity are still called for.

4 Thus, it seems like Skinner (1987) does not consider it a possibility that male classicists might also adopt a feminist perspective; she makes a clear connection between “feminist” and “female”. That not only women can be feminists is a remark we will come back to later, when discussing the “definition” of feminism. 5 We will explain this further in the chapter on feminist classicism.

Naturally, in the two decades that have passed since the publication of these two works, there have been other feminist classicist studies. Leonard & Zajko (2006), for instance, illustrate the relevance of antiquity for feminist research, one thing that was lacking from McManus’s (1997) research (cf.supra).6 The traditional agenda of feminist classicism still exists as well; research examining women in antiquity is still published, as is clear in, for example, James & Dillon’s(2012) volume A Companion to Women in the Ancient World and in Amy Richlin’s recently published Arguments with Silence: Writing the History of Women (2014) where she returns to the difficulties inherent to researching the history of women in antiquity. Recently, Hall & Wyles (2016) even introduced a different perspective. Instead of looking for women in antiquity, they tried to find the female classicists of history, thus attempting to map the historical achievements of women in classics and the obstacles they have faced. This is only a small selection of feminist classicist studies that have appeared since Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993) and McManus (1997).

Feminist classicism, then, is still alive and kicking. Since Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993) and McManus (1997), however, no real assessments of the field have been carried out; the enthusiasm that characterised these authors seems to have dwindled a bit and the marginalisation of classical studies that Skinner (1987) already remarked on has not fully abated either; it seems like this is a characteristic of classical studies that feminist classicism has not been able to fully leave behind. Yes, the impulse given by feminist thought has given more visibility to classicism, but it still has not reached its full potential yet. Conferences the likes of “Feminism and Classics Conference”, held every four years, are numerous, but somewhat isolated. In other words, feminist classicism is still somewhat stuck in its own academic context and has not fully succeeded at adopting all the characteristics of feminist research7. The invisibility of the field is deplorable and a terrible shame. We hope that our research will help to bring feminist classicism out of the shadows and revivify it with renewed enthusiasm. Yet again, there seems to be a need for a critical assessment of the progress made in the last two decades, in a similar manner as McManus (1997), Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993) and Skinner (1987) have done before us. Moreover, the very fact that researchers like Richlin (2014) still found it necessary to, after all this time, critically assess what it means to write a history of women, indicates that feminist classicism is not quite there yet. However, to put it with a cliché that fits remarkably well in this context: Rome was not built in a day. Considering that feminist classicism is somewhat of a contradiction in term, its very existence is already quite remarkable. And no one can truthfully claim that feminist research has completely succeeded at leaving behind the androcentrism of traditional science, let alone feminist classicism. Hence our research should be considered as a contribution to the- slow but steady- transformation of feminist classicism.

After this brief overview of feminist classicist research in general, we now briefly turn to the history of those publications that take Ovid and his Heroides as their subject.

Though recent years have shown a boom in academic publications on Ovid and his work, scholars were not always this fond of Ovid (Holzberg, 2002; Martindale, 1988; Spentzou, 2003). After some

6 After the connection between feminism and classicism had been made clear by researchers before them, they turned to the combination of feminist thought and classical myth, in order “to explore how classical myth has been central to the development of feminist thought”(Leonard & Zajko, 2006, p. 3). 7 These characteristics will be discussed in the first chapter of Part I.

8 time, though, scholars recognised the importance of a poet like Ovid for the history of Western literary culture (Holzberg, 2002; Martindale, 1988); the eighties even knew a new Ovidian renaissance (Holzberg, 2002). Slowly, Ovid was recognised for the genius that he is and scholars started to value his rather modern critiques of values he considered unmodern (Holzberg, 2002). Recent publications, like that of James (2015) and Ziolkowski (2005) show that the rekindled fire is still burning fiercely.

The negative attitude towards Ovid was especially apparent in scholars’ attitude towards the Heroides. As Spentzou (2003) points out, the Heroides were for a long time not considered worth the attention; it was perceived as a mere fusion of genres and nothing more. However, the recent boom in studies on Ovid’s work has also led to a re-evaluation of the Heroides, with a steady rise in publications as its consequence (Spentzou, 2003). These earliest studies focused on the intertextual nature of the Heroides, though, and did not devote much attention to the voice of the heroines (Spentzou, 2003). The heroines’ voice only truly surfaced in 1973, with W.S. Anderson’s publication that appreciated the voice of the heroines and thus inspired plenty of other publications (Spentzou, 2003). Especially the eighties saw a steady rise in publications on the Heroides, although the main focus still rested on the intertextual nature of the text (Spentzou, 2003). In the nineties, more and more attention was devoted to the elegiac nature of the text, which was to account for the heroines’ traits ( Spentzou, 2003); little attention, however, was given to how the heroines dismantled the elegiac puella (Spentzou, 2003). The nineties did, however, lead to the application of feminist classicist perspectives to Ovid’s work (Holzberg, 2002). Most of these publications, though, focussed on the Metamorphoses.

Spentzou’s publication, titled Readers and writers in Ovid’s Heroides: Transgressions of Genre and Gender (2003) forms one example of the few feminist publications that pay attention to the Heroides. In an attempt to give the heroines’ voices the attention they deserve, Spentzou (2003) decided to “offer a recuperative reading of the assailed heroines, pursuing traces of unclaimed strength and juxtaposing them to the heroines’ acknowledged manipulation by Ovid” (p. 2). However, Spentzou (2003) devotes most of her attention to considerations of gender transgressions connected to the different genres that are present in the Heroides, following in the footsteps of other researchers who have also greatly emphasised the epistolary genre in which the Heroides was written.8 Other researchers, both before and after Spentzou (2003), have also chosen to devote their attention to the epistolary nature of the text, as for example Lindheim (2003) and Rimell (2009). Not that many publications are characterised by a straightforward feminist perspective, though, and although they claim to be paying attention to the voices of the heroines, they often do not move beyond connecting this voice to the genre of the text.

With our research, then, we hope to fill in the gaps left by these researchers by applying a feminist classicist perspective to the stories themselves that structure the plot of the Heroides. There are very good reasons for subjecting the Heroides to a feminist classicist perspective. As Spentzou (2003) points out, the Heroides would not only contribute to feminist scholarship, but would itself surely benefit from a feminist perspective; a feminist perspective could prove vital in reviving and

8 We will devote some attention to the genre of the Heroides in the first chapter of Part II.

9 reinvigorating the message that these letters contain. It is indisputable that the heroines can learn us a lesson or two; as Seeck (1987) pointed out, the heroines have an almost modern appeal, being the “self- confident, self-centred, and self-important literary characters”9 they are. As we will prove in our detailed reading of the Heroides, Ovid’s heroines are quite uniquely emancipated, managing to engage with the boundaries of the norms that restrict their behaviour in such a way that they are capable of obtaining some agency. As Spentzou (2003) states, the heroines are beautifully combative and the battles they have fought, though of a distinctly different nature than those of their male counterparts, are heroic in their own right. In our opinion, the women from the Heroides have more than earned the title of “heroine”. In order to fully comprehend the Heroides’ feminist character, though, we first need to have a look at this elusive thing called “feminism”.

9 This quote was taken from Spentzou (2003, p. 17).

PART I: THE TANTALISING NATURE OF FEMINISM: REACHING A “DEFINITION” OF FEMINIST CLASSICIST RESEARCH AND GENDER TRANSGRESSION What does a feminist classicist approach entail? In trying to answer this question, I feel like I can almost relate to Tantalus; every time I think I can almost grasp its meaning, I feel it escapes me yet again. However, no one ever died from trying. Thus, in order to answer this question, we need to trace the emergence of feminist classical studies within feminist research. Since feminist classicism came into existence within the broader framework of feminist research, we need to first determine what characterises a feminist approach and then examine how the feminist classicist approach relates to this. In the second chapter we focus on how gender transgression connects to both the feminist and feminist classicist approach by asking the question of how gender transgression is relevant to both modern feminism and antiquity.

1. Chapter I- A Sisyphean task: defining feminist classicist research

1.1. Bra-burning, non-shaving miscreants: what is (a) feminis(m)(t)? “[…]the assumptions that I had held about what it meant to be a feminist were in fact a tool of the very systems of hate that these women were trying to smash. This system of hate (also known as “the patriarchy”) had concocted an image of a feminist precisely so young women would be deterred from continuing to fight.”

Curtis- Feminists don’t wear pink and other lies (2018), p. 4

“You hate men, you hate bras, you hate African culture, you think women should always be in charge, you don’t wear make-up, you don’t shave, you’re always angry, you don’t have a sense of humor, you don’t use deodorant.”

Adichie- We should all be feminists (2014), p. 2

In trying to figure out what constitutes a feminist (classicist) approach one is first faced with the following problem: what is feminism? Or better: what is a feminist? Two seemingly simple questions, which, according to some, can be easily answered. “Time to burn those bras and stop shaving our legs!” is one of the standard responses my sister laughingly provides when I say something that she considers as profoundly feminist. A bra-burning, non-shaving… woman? Apparently men have no part in it, being of the non-bra wearing type. Someone you would rather not be identified with, then. That seems about right, considering the incredulous looks I get when I inform my sister that she is as much a feminist as I am. Why is it so difficult for her, or other people, for that matter, to not receive this statement in an incredulous manner? Why do so many people refuse to be called “a feminist”, as if it is the worst possible insult? It seems like the answer to the question is not that simple after all. Why is that?

Part of it are definitely the stereotypes that accompany the term “feminist”. The passage by Adichie (2014) quoted above represents some of the most common stereotypes about feminists, used to

11 present feminism in a negative or derogatory manner, caricature feminists (Robinson, 1997) and prevent women from joining the fight. The public understanding of the term has, unfortunately, limited its impact; because of it, quite a number of people do not wish to be associated with feminism. Negative stereotypes are, however, only one of the obstacles one encounters when trying to define the term “feminism”. As bell hooks (1984) pointed out, one of the reasons why women do not wish to be associated with the term “feminism” lies in the fact that “they are uncertain about the meaning of the term”(24). Stereotypes only further cloud the meaning of feminism, which is foggy to start with. So what does it mean, then, to be “a feminist”? Feminists-what or whomever they may behave struggled to answer this question for decades as well.

There are several reasons , apart from negative stereotypes, that explain why it is so difficult to define “feminism”. One of the main problems already lies in the term “definition” itself, which appears to be somewhat out of place when it comes to feminism. Feminist research was built on the premise of tackling the androcentric bias present in traditional science10. Traditional science had, up to that point, presented itself as objective and universal and was characterised by a positivist attitude; they believed that the entire world could be known, pinned down and defined through reason. Even though the need to define could be considered an inherently human one, it could also be regarded as solely male. “human” for a very long time meant, “men” and consequently the “profession” of defining was also exclusively reserved for the male sex. Feminism, in other words, tries to challenge the traditional androcentric way of defining things. Thus, it also follows that, when it comes to feminism, “definition” is conceptualised in a different manner that allows for multiplicity. Consequently, the “definition” of feminism is also multiple in nature, a characteristic that Offen (1988) traces back to the roots of the term in the French language. Right from the beginning, then, feminism was characterised by multiplicity. How can this be explained?

Firstly, as Curtis (2018) points out, feminism is experienced differently by every feminist; it is fluid, flexible and open to meaning-making processes. In other words, feminism is in part highly personal, thus making it difficult to reach a definition that every (potential) “feminist” can recognise themselves in. Secondly, feminism is also highly context-bound (Beasley, 1999; Offen, 1988); the overall societal, cultural, political, economic, but also historical context are of paramount importance in determining what feminism stands for. Consequently every culture, continent, country, etc. can have its own feminist tradition that is sometimes completely at odds with others. On a global scale, for instance, Western feminism has often been juxtaposed with its non-Western counterpart, that of the Global South. In a similar manner the Anglo-Saxon feminist tradition cannot be simply put at a par with the French tradition. Finally, feminism can be subdivided into different currents or strands, that each accentuate different aspects and represent a different viewpoint, as for example liberal, Marxist, radical and postmodern feminism.11

This multiplicity of feminism has led to some researchers speaking of feminisms, plural (Delmar, 1986; Kent, 2004). Nevertheless, most researchers do agree that, whilst it might be difficult to define feminism in the traditional sense of the word, reaching a consensus about some basic characteristics

10 We will come back to this statement later, when defining feminism and the characteristics of feminist research. 11 For an extensive overview of the different strands within feminism, see Beasley (1999) and Tong (1992).

12 is possible (Beasley, 1999; Delmar, 1986; Freedman, 2001; McManus, 1997 ; Offen, 1988), which can then be interpreted in different ways. By examining the approaches of several feminist researchers, we came to the following characteristics of feminism.

First and foremost feminism is both an ideology and a social movement (Offen, 1988). On the one hand, feminism as an ideology refers to the broad spectrum of ideas/theories that make up feminism and which can be found in every culture (Offen, 1988). Feminist research can be regarded as trying to theorise and scientifically conceptualise these ideas. On the other hand, the political aspect of feminism lies in the challenging of existing power relations that subordinate women (Offen, 1988; Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993). Both aspects are, of course, interlinked, since social activism is greatly based on ideas and vice versa. Secondly, feminism is, as bell hooks (1984) described it, “the struggle to end sexist oppression”(p. 28) and is thus concerned with women’s inferior positions in society and the discrimination this creates (Delmar, 1986; Freedman, 2001). Hence, a feminist is necessarily “at odds with male-dominated culture and society” (Offen, 1988, p. 152). By consequence, in an attempt to reach this goal, feminism strives to change the underlying societal, cultural, economic and political order/structure that leads to sexism and other forms of oppression (bell hooks, 1984; Delmar, 1986; Freedman, 2001). Importantly feminism does not only tackle sexism, but other forms of oppression as well, taking the diversity and differences among women into consideration (Beasley, 1999) by applying the intersectional approach12. Next, in order to complete its goals, feminism focuses on gender as its category of analysis and recognises the problematic nature of gender relations in our society (Adichie, 2014; Offen, 1988). Since “there are no contemporary humans who escape gendering” (Harding, 1986, p. 57), “contemporary feminism is premised on the notion that we need to understand the concept of gender in order to change social relations” (Essed et al., 2005, p. 3). Finally, feminism pays attention to specific historical and societal contexts when examining the gender relations in society and trying to end sexism (Beasley, 1999; Kent, 2004; Offen, 1988). Since feminism places “woman” and “the feminine” at the centre of its analysis, and what we consider as “feminine” changes throughout time and depends on the context, it follows that the meaning of feminism also changes in the same way (Kent, 2004).

To conclude, a feminist, then, is any person, male or female, who meets the following three criteria (Offen, 1988): 1) A person that acknowledges female virtues, needs and experiences; 2) a person that feels uncomfortable or angry because of the inequality women have to suffer; and 3) who advocates for the elimination of injustice by challenging whatever has caused it. A lot more complicated, it would seem, than the bra-burning, non-shaving miscreants feminists are often made out to be.

12 For an introduction on the concept of intersection and its importance to feminism, see Romero (2018).

1.2. One step at a time: what is feminist research? Having established what it means to be (a) feminist, we will now turn our attention to what constitutes feminist research. More specifically, we want to know more about feminist methods and methodology13. Is there such a thing as “a feminist method”? And what distinguishes feminist methodology from other forms of thought?

First item on the agenda is determining what distinguishes feminism from other forms of thought. Beasley (1999) and Disch & Hawkesworth (2018) highlight that feminist thought is characterised by an interaction with other forms of thought, adopting some in an interdisciplinary approach, and questioning and/or rejecting others, as is the case with traditional malestream thinking. Put differently, feminist thought means engaging with boundaries, both its own and those of others (Beasley, 1999). What makes it feminist, though, is the fact that it is concerned with all the characteristics of feminism we have mentioned above. There are, naturally, different ways in which feminist thought engages with these boundaries. As mentioned earlier, feminism is characterised by a multiplicity of different currents who each have their own strategy for reaching feminism’s goals. Consequently, each type of feminist thought also comes with different methodologies and methods (Disch & Hawkesworth, 2018). To answer the question we previously asked, then, a feminist method, singular, does not exist, just like there is no one feminism. It is not surprising, then, that Harding (1987) concludes that the distinctiveness of feminist research does not lie in its methods. All feminists methods, however, do share a commitment to the following characteristics: 1) new empirical and theoretical resources (Harding, 1987); 2) new purposes (Harding, 1987); and 3) new subject matter (Harding, 1987). In the next part we will further explain each element.14

Firstly, feminist methods are feminist because they use women’s experiences as new empirical and theoretical resources, thus challenging the authority of traditional malestream thinking (Beasley, 1999).Whereas traditional sciences merely take men’s experiences as their source and consequently only ask those questions “that appear problematic from within the social experiences that are characteristic for men” (Harding, 1987, p. 6), feminist research commits itself to asking those questions that are of value to women’s experiences, thus taking women as their subject of analysis (Beasley, 1999). Whilst mainstream society and political thought might have accepted and confirmed women’s subordination in social and political life, feminist researchers have challenged women’s subordinate status (Beasley, 1999) by focussing on how they experience male superiority. In other words, feminist research has proven how traditional sciences are strongly gendered (Harding, 1986) and thus believes that gender is a vital category of analysis (cf.supra).15 Secondly, it follows that feminist research has a different purpose than traditional science; it is produced for women.

Finally, as a consequence of the previous two elements, feminist research has new subject matter, namely studying women for women and from the perspective of their own experiences. Moreover,

13 Harding (1987) clearly distinguishes between methods, i.e. techniques for gathering evidence, and methodologies, i.e. the theories and analyses of how research does or should proceed and that consequently lie behind the methods. 14 The information that we provide here is mostly derived from Harding (1987). In those cases where other sources were also used, we have added further references. 15 As mentioned in our definition of feminism, gender is seen as a vital category of analysis because we need it in order to fully comprehend the power structures in society and alter them.

14 not only the position of the woman as subject matters; the position of the researchers themselves is also of vital importance. By owning up to and reflecting about their own position, researchers can increase the objectivity of their research and thus reach what Harding (1992) calls “strong objectivity”. Contrarily to the positivist attitude that characterises traditional research, there is no assumption of objectivity, but rather a recognition that no research is ever fully objective (Harding, 1986). Thus, at the beginning of their research, feminist scholars should point out how their context may have influenced their research. This feminist attitude is also often referred to as standpoint theory.16

Since standpoint theory forms such a vital part of feminist research, it seems only appropriate to also refer to my own context and how this may have shaped this research. Firstly, I am a feminist because of all the reasons we have thus far listed. Taking note of the fact that feminism consists of both an ideological and a political activist side, it is safe to say that I am more concerned with the ideological aspect; I am rather unlikely to participate in marches or strikes. My struggle is a struggle of the pen and the word, and thus this research can be seen as my way of fighting against the subordination of women. Secondly, I am also a classicist, of the Latin-loving type. My area of “expertise”, if I may call it that at my tender age, is that of literary studies. These two backgrounds have shaped me in very meaningful ways and have ultimately led to this research. However, I am aware that a female and feminist perspective on a classical author like Ovid might mean interpreting the text differently than it was meant. Then again, the pitfall of anachronism is somewhat hard to avoid when dealing with a text of which we hardly know what it was supposed to mean in the first place. Nonetheless, I will strive to not project my own context when this is anachronistic and uncalled for. In those cases where I have failed to do this it will become clear that I am only a novice when it comes to conducting feminist research and still have a lot to learn.

To summarise, then, this research can be considered feminist in nature because we examine women’s experiences as they are represented in the Heroides, with the intention of better understanding the history of women’s struggle against subordination and with the purpose of giving the heroines a chance at breaking the silence that has for so long characterised studies on the Heroides. However, feminism only forms one side of the coin, the other side being classicism. How can these two fields of research be combined?

16 For more information on standpoint theory/thinking, see: Disch & Hawkesworth (2018), Harding (1986), and Intemann (2018).

1.3. A problematic union: feminism and classicism

1.3.1. The emergence of feminist classicism How did feminist classicism evolve out of classicism? It took a by feminism inspired recognition of both the gendered nature of classics and classicists for feminist classicism to come into being. McManus (1997) explains how both the classics and the classicists are gendered and how this was slowly challenged by the impulse given by feminist thought.17

First of all, McManus (1997) describes the gendering of the (study of the) classics themselves. Within the classics lies a certain bias about what came first and what constitutes the norm; there is a reason why we use the expression “it’s a classic” when referring to something that we consider as normative and the original. In other words, the classics are characterised by an inherent “elitizing value judgment, denoting as it does ‘what is of enduring value’ “ (Skinner, 1987, p. 182). Furthermore, classics are strongly based on a bias that excludes women. Consequently, when determining what counts as “(a)classic”, we often focus solely on male-dominated culture and its products. A “classic” then becomes associated with what constitutes as such from a male perspective. This bias did not entail a complete neglect of women in classicist research, though; in their research on ancient Rome and Greece classicists did sometimes pay attention to women. However, this early classicist work on women in antiquity was heavily flawed. McManus (1997) summarises these flaws as follows. To begin with, they isolated women from “every aspect of the ancient world”(McManus, 1997, p. 5), adopting the ancient Greek attitude that women were “a thing apart”(McManus, 1997, p. 6), outside of civilisation and also outside of history. Consequently, women were either absent, mentioned briefly as participators in important political events and/or seen as entirely separate categories. In other words, women were considered a special problem that need not be represented in mainstream classicist scholarship. Secondly, these classicists adopted a highly moralistic attitude that did not focus on “the historical recovery of ancient women”(McManus, 1997, p. 7) but rather used women as “a category to think with, to consider and debate issues of modern ideology”(McManus, 1997, p. 7). Hence, referring to the status of ancient women became a way of legitimating the status of women in their own society, thus creating an analogy between past and present by interpreting the past through a contemporary lens. By consequence, these types of research tell us more about modern ideological issues than those of the past. Finally, Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993) add to this that the classics are based on an idea of neutrality and objectivity, with neither an acknowledgement nor a questioning of their own position; they do not see the need for theorising their approaches and thus ignore that they are, in fact, gendered.

Despite some exceptions, this androcentric tradition continued for quite some time. Then came second-wave feminism, which also influenced classicism and its view on women. This new era was heralded in by researchers like Pomeroy, Reinhold and Bermen and soon led to the organisation of the first Conference on Women in Antiquity in ’73 (the so-called Buffalo conference), which in its turn sparked the publication of a special issue of the classical journal Arethusa, which was “dedicated to the investigation of women from antiquity from a feminist perspective”(Foxhall, 2013, p. 6). Consequently new methodological principles for studying women in antiquity were introduced,

17 Most of the information that follows, was derived from McManus (1997). In those instances where this was not the case, other sources are referenced.

16 clearly influenced by feminism. These paid specific attention to women as full subjects, the differences between women due to differing contexts and the androcentric bias present in traditional classicism.18 Although feminism thus influenced a revision of the gendered nature of the classics, a similar change in the gendered nature of the classicist also proved to be necessary for the birth of feminist classicism.

Classicists have always been strongly gendered. Whilst the profession of scientist had always been a male prerogative in general, this seemed to be even more so when it came to the profession of classicist. In other words, classicists did not only exclude women as subjects of their research, but also as the conductors of it (McManus, 1997; Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993). Despite the obstacles preventing women from studying classics, quite a number of them still chose to study it since “demonstrating mastery of the classical languages symbolically represented earning a recognised place in Western culture, a badge of intellectual achievement previously only thought possible for men” (McManus, 1997, p.26-7). Paradoxically, what attracted them in the classics was the fact that it had excluded them (McManus, 1997). Under the influence of feminism, more and more women eventually entered academia, and, by consequence, also the study of the classics. By challenging both the gendered nature of the classics and the classicists, feminist classicism came into being.

Nevertheless, feminist classicist studies was and still seems to be characterised by a multifaceted isolation. First of all, it holds an isolated place within classicism itself, since classical studies does not traditionally focus on women as full subjects. Consequently, feminist classicism is also isolated within feminism since classicism in its essence seems to be the exact opposite of what feminism strives for. Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993) even pointed out how non-classicists were very unlikely to read the publications of feminist classicists and we could not truthfully claim that this is no longer the case today. This isolation of the field is precisely what we wish to challenge in this research, by showing how a combination of feminism and classicism can succeed and thus deserves a recognised position within both feminist and classicist studies. Before we can claim this position, however, we first need to dwell on the complicated relationship between feminism and classical studies. Why was it necessary for both the classics and the classicists to recognise their gendered nature, influenced by feminism? What limitations had to be overcome in order for this union to work? It is this complicated relationship with feminism that forms the focus of the next part.

1.3.2. A match made in… hell? The uneasy marriage of feminism and classicism Even though feminist classicism came into being under the influence of feminism, the relationship between the two has always been an uneasy one. If feminist research already struggled to overcome the androcentric bias of traditional scholarship, this proved to be an even harder challenge for classical studies, which harbours an even stronger connection to androcentrism. As Skinner (1987) phrases it, classical studies was “the most conservative, hierarchical and patriarchal of academic fields”(p. 181). Thus, it seems like the two are oceans apart. Wherein lies the difference between the two? And can we cross the oceans that lie in between?

Whereas feminist theory aims at altering existing power structures and is linked to other forms of theory, classical studies stands for the exact opposite, namely tradition (Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993).

18 For a more detailed list of these new methodological principles, see McManus (1997).

From a feminist perspective, then, classical studies are highly conservative (Skinner, 1987). There is also a clear discursive difference (Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993). Feminists question the traditional discourse that overlooks the differences between women; they ask who is speaking and for whom, emphasising the need for standpoint thinking. By contrast, traditional discourse regards these subjective questions as irrelevant and maintains the appearance of objectivity: “In this schema, certain questions tend not to be asked, for example, questions about social class, gender, ethnicity, the relationship between author and audience, or outside influences on the author, to say nothing of the value and meaning of this material to the reader in the year 2000”(Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993). In other words, classicism lacks the reflexivity that is so typical of feminist research; classicists are only interested in reconstructing the past and are not preoccupied with whether or not non-classicists find their research interesting (Skinner, 1987). The difference in discourse is only one obstacle that feminist classicism has to overcome, though; another is the problem of evidence. Our sources of antiquity are limited and consist mainly of male representations of women, thus making it hard to access women’s subjective experiences (Finley, 2002; Pomeroy, 1995; Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993), which forms an essential part of feminist research. Consequently, accessing the subject matter that is central to feminism is greatly problematized by the limited source-material and the distance that separates us from antiquity; it is not las if we can simply ask these women about their experiences.

Despite these limitations, feminist classicism holds importance for feminist research and has in its own way contributed to it. Firstly, it has helped in the overall feminist task of making women visible, finding the missing women in history and giving a voice to those who have been silenced for such a long time (Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993). Secondly, feminist classicism has always evolved with the major trends of feminist research, for instance following the shift from women’s to gender studies (Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993) and the introduction of the intersectional approach. Therefore there is no real reason why feminist classicism should not be considered as a full member of feminist research. Finally, feminist research can benefit from the insights offered by feminist classicism, since understanding antiquity is vital for understanding the present (Foxhall, 2013; Gold, 1993; Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993). Since this research has chosen to focus on the period of antiquity, it is important to determine why antiquity is relevant from a feminist perspective. Why does antiquity matter? And consequently, why does feminist classicism matter?

We previously mentioned how difficult it is to gain access to the subjective experiences of women in antiquity due to the fact that most sources were written or created by men and are, by consequence, often highly misogynistic (Finley, 2002; Pomeroy, 1995; Rabinowitz & Richlin, 1993). The images we have of women in antiquity are, in other words, the result of a male gaze. However, this is not only the case for antiquity; women’s experiences were for centuries represented through a male lens. By consequence, looking at the depictions of women in antiquity can help us to understand the history of the male gaze and thus help us in making sense of the contemporary representations of women (Gold, 1993). As Pomeroy (1995) phrases it, the study of antiquity is vital for the present since : “[…]the past illuminates contemporary problems in relationships between men and women”(p. xvii). For instance, as D’Ambra (2007) demonstrates, gender patterns in antiquity show a complexity very similar to those in modern times: “The demarcation of gender was far from clear-cut. Rather than only manly men and demure women, a spectrum of gendered positions was available between the poles of extreme masculinity and femininity. Romans were, no doubt, better at spotting the relative

18 degrees of gender than we are and calculating the risks in adopting certain features”(p.15). It seems like the Romans could learn us a lesson or two.

Even myths, which are today considered as false, made-up stories, harness a core of truth about the lives of women “[…] for the myths of the past moulded the attitudes of successive, more sophisticated generations and preserved the continuity of the social order”(Pomeroy, 1995, p.1).19 The goddesses of old still embody archetypes of female existence (Pomeroy, 1995). Moreover, Leonard & Zajko (2006) point out how feminists have often “chosen to revivify ancient narratives to arm contemporary struggles” (p. 2). Myths, then, do seem of value when it comes to women’s experiences. The letters written by female mythological characters from the Heroides,then, can be considered as legitimate sources that represent women’s experiences from the past. Of course, there is still a “need to determine the relation between the reality of women’s lives and their representation in literature” (Wyke, 2002, p. 193); literature cannot be seen as a direct reflection of reality, but does contain perspectives and ideas about how Romans imagined their world and shaped realities (D’Ambra, 2007). Furthermore, “[…]because women do not speak to us directly in the ancient sources, it is important to determine who is representing them and for what purposes”( D’Ambra, 2007, p. 3). In other words, in trying to determine how the text represents women and why, it is also important to note who has written it and with what purpose. Each author can have different motives in representing women in a certain way; they might be part of literary conventions or they might represent the author’s own perspective on women.

Reason enough, then, why antiquity is relevant for understanding women’s experiences and for feminist classicism to hold a prominent and recognised position within feminist research. It seems that what the field of classicism needs in order to survive is exactly a team-up with feminist thought, since this helps to eliminate the elitist and marginalised character of classical studies (Skinner, 1987). The combination of feminism and classicism could be a match made in heaven rather than hell. Why is it, then, that the field of feminist classicism is still somewhat marginalised?20 Has it not managed to leave behind its androcentric roots, despite its strategies for achieving this?21 These are questions that we cannot answer adequately in this research. It seems like feminist classicism has all the ingredients to create a perfect cocktail; it just has not quite figured out whether to shake and/or stir them. Let us have a look, then, at how this research hopes to create the perfect cocktail by examining gender transgression, a subject relevant to both feminism and antiquity.

19 Finley (2002) also points out how the representations of women in antiquity have lasted through time. 20 We have previously shown how feminist classicism is still somewhat marginalised and hidden within scholarship in general (cf. status quaestionis). 21 Rabinowitz & Richlin (1993) mention several strategies that feminist classicists have used. One strategy consists of moving beyond the literary texts as source-material and looking at material remains and non-literary texts, thus turning away from “the male icons, the great authors” (p. 9). Another focuses on trying to find those female writers who did exist and decode the representations of women in the works of men.

2. Chapter II- Walking the thin line between acceptable and wanton behaviour: gender transgression in antiquity Having now established what counts as feminist classicist research and after briefly touching on the point of why this field deserves a recognised position within feminist scholarship, it is time to leave behind the spheres of theory and to gradually venture into the realm of the case study. Before we can turn our attention to the Heroides, however, we first need to determine the meaning of the term “gender transgression”. Thus, as befits a feminist research, our study uses gender as a category of analysis. What is gender, though? A first subsection intends to unpack this question by giving an overview of how the term is usually defined in feminist research. However, although Harding (1986) might have only recognised the gendered nature of contemporary humans, gender is also relevant to the context of antiquity; as previously pointed out, antiquity itself was characterised by “a spectrum of gendered positions” (D’Ambra, 2007, p. 15). Hence, we will devote some attention to the application of the category of gender to the context of antiquity. Next, we combine these insights with the concept of transgression in order to thus reach a definition of gender transgression. Finally, we give a brief overview of the occurrence of gender transgression in antiquity before we turn to Ovid’s Heroides more specifically.

2.1. Gender and transgression reconsidered: a feminist classicist perspective

2.1.1. Changing social relations, step one: gender As a central category of analysis in feminist research, gender also seems to share feminism’s inclination to blurriness. So what is gender, then?

The category of gender did not always play such a pivotal role within feminist studies. Indeed, at the very beginning of feminist scholarship, the term “gender” simply did not exist, although the idea that lay behind it was and had been present in feminist thought for quite some time. The academic branch of feminism itself was a natural consequence of second-wave feminism (Maynard & Winn, 1997; Robinson, 1997). Within this movement, the need arose for a theoretical framework upon which feminist social activism could be based, a branch of scholarship that was called “women’s studies” . The goal of women’s studies was to challenge the invisibility of women in and the androcentric assumptions of traditional scholarship by claiming the study of women by women (Davis, 2006; Robinson, 1997) as its field of research. Brod (1987) neatly summarises the emergence of women’s studies:

“Traditional scholarship used to speak of “sex differences”, where behavioural differences were usually thought of as correlative with innate, biological differences between women and men. Against this background, the women’s studies scholarship which grew out of the contemporary feminist movement insisted that the biological distinction male/female was not equivalent to nor necessarily correlative with the social distinction masculine/feminine, and popularized the category of “sex roles” to speak of social/cultural differences between women and men. Most were willing to draw the clear political implications of this framework that if sex roles were learned or acquired, rather than innate and given, then they could also be unlearned and changed.” (p. 181)

In other words, the idea that lies behind the term “gender” was initially expressed through the concept of “sex roles”, a term that was introduced in order to differentiate between, on the one

20 hand, the biological difference between the sexes, and, on the other hand, the social one. Even though the emergence of women’s studies and the clear distinction between sex and “sex roles” led to a recovery of women, the concept of “sex roles” soon led to some problems within feminist scholarship (Brod, 1987). To avoid further complications, the term “gender” was introduced as a way of “extending the knowledge of the complexity of human gender to the study of both men and women and their interactions in the personal, in civil society and in public and social life” (Davis, 2006, p. 3-4, own emphasis). The sex/gender distinction that was born out of this was “originally intended to dispute the biology-is-destiny formulation,” (Butler, 1999, p. 9) and served “the argument that whatever biological intractability sex appears to have, gender is culturally constructed” (Butler, 1999, p. 9). Thus, gender studies was born as a field that would take both men and women into consideration. However, as Brod (1987) rightly emphasised, gender studies should not simply be considered as a renaming of women’s studies; after the introduction of gender, women’s studies did not simply evaporate into thin air. Instead, gender studies should be considered as the overarching term, a general field of studies that consists of both men’s and women’s studies, which both study gender but from the perspective of respectively men’s and women’s experiences (Brod, 1987).22 For the purpose of our research, however, gender is the appropriate term to use, since we wish to examine how both the male and female characters of the Heroides transgress gender norms.

With gender studies now firmly established23, feminist researchers turned towards defining the term. The definition of gender traditionally consists of two elements24: 1) gender is a constitutive element of social relations between men and women, and 2) gender is a system of power. Let us start by unravelling the first element. Several researchers highlight the importance of gender in structuring social relations. Harding (1986), for example, defined gender as “a fundamental category within which meaning and value are assigned to everything in the world, a way of organising human social relations” (57). Similarly Brod (1987) also characterised gender as a form of social organisation and Essed et al. (2017) “present gender as a relationship between the social categories of men and women”(p. 4). This structuring of social relations along the lines of gender takes place on both the macro-and the micro level. As Davis (2006) puts it: “Gender divisions not only permeate the individual’s sense of self, families and intimate relationships [the micro level], but also structure work, politics, law, education, medicine, the military, religions, and culture [the macro level]”(p. 2). In other words, society is gendered on all levels.25 Furthermore, feminist scholars also point out that

22 As Brod (1987) argues, the emergence of men’s studies was a natural consequence of the turn to gender within feminist scholarship. 23 There was and still remains some opposition to the concept of gender, and consequently, gender studies as well (Robinson, 1997). Some feminists fear(ed) that a turn to gender would mean neglecting the “sexual and emotional differences between women and men”(Davis, 2006, p. 2). Others were apprehensive of the term because a focus on both men and women could allow the male perspective to become predominant again. Despite these concerns, however, most feminists, as was shown in the first chapter, agree on using the term gender as a main category of analysis since they consider it a more inclusive term that is also more easily accepted (Robinson, 1997). 24 The two elements are based on Joan Scott’s (1986) definition of gender. However, we have combined her insights with those of other researchers in order to reach the definition of gender as it is here given. 25 “Gendered” refers to the “division of people into two differentiated groups, ‘men’ and ‘women’, and the organisation of the major aspects of society along those binaries” (Davis. 2006, p. 2).

21 gender is only one category of difference that creates social relations; it intersects with other social categories like ethnicity, disability, age, sexual attraction, religion, etc. in order to create complex power structures and hierarchies (Davis, 2006; Maynard & Winn, 1997).

Secondly, gender is a system of power since “it privileges some men and disadvantages most women”( Davis, 2006, p.2). Importantly, both the oppressors and the oppressed help to construct and maintain gender because both ascribe value to how it aids in creating an identity and in determining appropriate masculine and feminine behaviour (Davis et al. 2006). Moreover, gender can be considered as a hegemonic system of power, since most of “its foundational assumptions and ubiquitous processes are invisible, unquestioned, and unexamined” (Davis et al., 2006, p. 2). When combined with the first part of the definition, we can thus conclude that the social relations that gender creates, are structured in such a way that they create power hierarchies that are considered as the norm.

Consequently, gender, like other social categories, constructs certain values that are then accepted as the norm (Essed et al., 2005). However, since gender is clearly a social construct, it also follows that it can be de-and reconstructed. As Brod (1987) points out in the section quoted above, feminists quickly recognised the potential for change inherent in gender (or “sex roles”, as it was still known then). Hence the normative values created by gender, are likewise social constructs that can be changed, and thus, have changed over time as well. This neatly ties in with the previously given characteristics of feminism and feminist research, where we already emphasised the importance of differing contexts. In other words, feminism’s devotion to using gender as a category of analysis necessarily leads to its attention to differing contexts; it is simply inherent to the category of gender. The meaning attributed to gender, then, is also dependent on the spatial, temporal and cultural context. Consequently, what counts as a gender norm in one culture at a given time can differ from gender norms that are part of a different context.

Thus far we have defined the category of gender and shown how it was adopted as a main category of analysis in feminist research. Using gender to examine antiquity, then, would be the ideal way to engage in feminist classicist research. How does one go about studying gender in antiquity, though? Can we simply apply a modern concept to a context in which said concept did not yet exist?

Several arguments could be made for studying gender in antiquity. Firstly, Foxhall ( 2013) argues for the application of the category of gender to the context of antiquity. Since “gender is a core part of all our social lives as well as our personal identities” (Foxhall, 2013, p. 2) it can connect the (remote) past with the present; the structures that gender creates can be found throughout history, albeit in slightly different forms. In other words, looking at gender in antiquity opens up the possibility to perceive the history of gender itself, which in turn can aid in understanding the present. More specifically, it is the biological elements of gender that create a continuity between past and present. Since it is the biological side of gender that remains more or less the same throughout history; “men and women in the past looked physically ‘male’ and ‘female’ in the same basic ways as we do today” (Foxhall, 2013, p. 2). Unsurprisingly, then, some of the old gender hierarchies that were present in antiquity still persist in many forms and for many reasons today (Foxhall, 2013). Of course, these are

22 arguments that could be quoted as reasons for using gender to study history in its entirety. Foxhall (2013), however, also indicates a specific reason for applying gender to antiquity:

“But there is a specific reason for returning to the classical past, which is the way it has been held up by successive generations as a model for gendered ideals of all kinds, from Platonic love to impossibly virtuous wives. This has left us with an ideological legacy that not only lies at the roots of our traditions, but has also been continually elaborated and re-invoked, and thus has continued, in many devious ways, to wield its influence over us today” (p. 15).

Consequently, looking at gender in the past in a way means looking in the mirror; it allows us to situate ourselves in history and remind ourselves how far we have come, but also shows the long way that still lies ahead (Foxhall, 2013). Secondly, the non-existence of the word “gender” does not necessarily entail a non-existence of the idea that lies behind it. Long before the term gender was introduced a distinction was already made between biological sex and the social roles that went with this. The Latin language holds some indications that Romans also distinguished between the two; words like sexus, genus, and natura were used to refer to a person’s biological sex, whilst for example virilis (“manly”, “manful”) referred to the behaviour that befits a man. Consequently, using gender as a category for analysing antiquity does not seem that far-fetched, after all.

However, some problems also arise when trying to study gender in antiquity. As Foxhall (2013) points out, examining gender in the past always means looking at the past “through the filter of our own present” (Foxhall, 2013); it is impossible to completely leave behind our own context when studying gender structures in antiquity. Consequently, our understanding of gender in antiquity has radically evolved through the years “in tandem with changing views about gender in modern and postmodern western societies” (Foxhall, 2013, p. 4).26 Furthermore, finding primary evidence for gender in antiquity is often hard to find and interpret. Since gender was considered innate, there was no need to write about it (Foxhall, 2013); it was simply assumed that ancient Roman women and men would know how to behave according to their sex. In those cases where we do find explicit references to gender norms we are most likely dealing with exceptions that were only recorded because they transgressed the norms that were known by all. Of course, these references are then of vital importance for the study of gender transgression.

Gender, then, can be applied to the context of antiquity. But what did it entail? (2013) points out that, since gender has biological and physical aspects connected to it (cf. supra), this led to the belief that gender was innate. Put differently, sex and gender were considered as the exact same thing; a person’s function in society was entirely predetermined by their biological sex. Hence, men’s biology predestined them for the productive role of dominator, whilst women’s biology led to a mere reproductive function. As a consequence of this emphasis on the biological aspects of gender, ancient Romans considered gender as productive, since one’s gender identity depended on the ability to produce children, particularly boys (Roscoe, 1996). By consequence, men and women that could not reproduce because they were impotent and/or attracted to the same sex did not qualify as

26 Foxhall (2013) then goes on to describe a brief history of the different approaches to gender in antiquity. This overview more or less corresponds to the changes made in classicist studies under the influence of feminist research that we outlined in the first chapter.

23 male or female; they constituted other genders, that also had specific roles attached to them (Roscoe, 1996). Thus, even though gender was mainly considered innate, this did not mean that gender was beyond contestation (Foxhall, 2013). Gender transgression, then, was regarded as a possibility (Roscoe, 1996). What does gender transgression entail, though?

2.1.2. Changing social relations, step two: transgression The term “transgression” is defined as follows by Jenks (2003)27:

“[Transgression is] a dynamic force in cultural reproduction- it prevents stagnation by breaking the rule and it ensures stability by reaffirming the rule. Transgression is not the same as disorder; it opens up chaos and reminds us of the necessity of order. But the problem remains. We need to know the collective order, [we need ]to recognise the edges in order to transcend them.” (O’Neill & Seal, 2012, p. 3)

In other words, transgression carries an inherent contradiction: in breaking the rules, it also ends up reaffirming and strengthening them. By transgressing certain norms, the boundaries are highlighted and thus people are reminded that they exist. Paradoxically, it is in the transgression of norms that we recognise the norms that we have taken for granted (O’Neill & Seal, 2012). However, transgression does not only reaffirm the rule; it also indicates that norms are unfixed and open to change (O’Neill & Seal, 2012). Thus, even though transgression in a way also entails a recognition of existing norms, the act can still lead to a rethinking and restructuring of those norms; through the act of transgression, we are reminded of the existing rules, which also gives us the opportunity to question them.

Furthermore, O’Neill & Seal (2012) point out how transgression can be both intentional and unintentional. On the one hand, it can be a form of resistance, born of “a desire to transcend the everyday and the culturally prescribed” (p. 3). Transgression in this case can be considered as liberating and exciting, since it can offer “new ways of constituting social identities and new ways of living and engaging with others (O’Neill & Seal, 2012, p. 3). On the other hand, it can also be “a consequence of being perceived to evade established categories” (O’Neill & Seal, 2012, p. 3)and being considered out of place. Thus, transgressors often do not choose to be seen as such and might even be unaware that they are perceived as transgressing certain norms or boundaries (O’Neill & Seal, 2012). Moreover, it seems like being out of place and not being able to be or do otherwise is more transgressive than intentionally engaging in transgressive behaviour; transgression more often lies in the perception of the act (O’Neill & Seal, 2012). However, since this type of transgression lies in the perception of it, one could wonder whether the transgressor is actually transgressing or only perceived as such.28

Having thus defined transgression, we can now combine all the previous information and turn to gender transgression itself. Let us quickly repeat the most important aspects of our definition of gender. We previously defined gender as both a constitutive element of social relations between men and women and as a system of power. Thus, gender prescribes how men and women should behave towards each other both on the micro and the macro level (cf. supra) and consequently

27 This quote was taken from O’Neill & Seal (2012). 28 This question will also prove relevant for our discussion of the Heroides.

24 creates a power hierarchy between the two. Importantly, both the dominators and the dominated help to keep this power system into place by attributing value and meaning to it. By consequence, gender creates gender norms, which can also be deconstructed since these can be considered as social constructs. Combined with the given definition of transgression, gender transgression can then be defined as a transgression of both the gender norms that prescribe the normative social relations between men and women and the normative power structures that are the result of this. Furthermore, we should also bear in mind that this transgression consists of both a breaking and confirming of the norms and can be intentional or unintentional. Finally, since gender norms are highly context-dependent (cf. supra), what counts as gender transgression is also dependent on the culture and time-period in which we find ourselves (Ansara & Quick, 2016). Hence, the next part is devoted to the occurrence of gender transgression in the specific context of antiquity.

2.2. Crossdressers and manly women: breaking and confirming gender patterns in antiquity How did gender transgression work in the context of antiquity, and, more specifically, of Ovid’s Heroides? To finish the present chapter, we end with a broad and concise overview of gender transgression in antiquity.

As was previously pointed out, gender in antiquity was considered synonymous with biological sex. However, this connection between gender and innate, and thus unchanging, biology did not necessarily lead to the elimination of gender transgression. How was this possible? First of all, Raval (2002) points out that Roman society29 lent itself pretty well to transgression in general since “sexual and gender identities were constituted through role-playing and boundary-crossing” (p. 168); the Romans firmly believed that order and disorder went hand in hand. In a society that was as highly stratified as theirs in terms of gender and class, frequent reversals of the order were necessary in order to keep total chaos at bay (Raval, 2002). A high-strung lyre has to snap at one time. Better then to avoid this tension by allowing sporadic blurrings of boundaries. However, when it came to transgressive behaviour, there seems to have been a segregation along gender lines. Whilst there was ample opportunity for men to cross the boundaries of gender, little proof exists that women were granted the same chances. Raval (2002) explains this discrepancy by pointing out that “the ancient world did not have the same anxieties and concerns about femininity as about masculinity”(p. 169); although men had to constantly struggle in order to attain masculinity and avoid being considered feminine, women were far less easily considered as masculine and consequently had to be less vigilant in guarding their femininity (Raval, 2002). By consequence, gender transgression in men was more often perceived as negative than when it occurred in women (cf. infra).

Apart from this overall societal attitude, a second explanation for the occurrence of gender transgression can be found in the biological beliefs of the time. Antiquity was characterised by what

29 We are choosing to focus on Roman society here, since this is the context in which Ovid himself wrote the Heroides and thus the context that could have influenced his perspective on the Greek mythological characters. Since Ovid would have come into contact with transgressive behaviour in Roman society, it is more likely that this context would have influenced him. However, for some of the characters, their transgressive nature is inherent to their character and thus came into being in a Greek context.

Laqueur calls a one-sex model, which means that “the human body was constructed as a single-sex body sexually differing only in inverted genitalia, and two very different sexed bodies” (Marin, 2006, p. 4). In other words, the male and female genitals were considered essentially the same, with the minor difference that those of men are external and those of women internal (Marin, 2006). As a consequence of this model, gender was considered as fluid; male and female constituted only two points on a spectrum that consisted of multiple other options (Marin, 2006), all depending on the ratio of the four humours they believed the body consisted of. In other words, the possibility of gender transgression was inherent to the beliefs held about biological sex (and consequently gender as well). Apart from the main categories of man and women several subcategories also existed. By consequence, one type of gender transgression was closely connected to changes in biological sex, as was the case with for example hermaphrodites and sex changers.

Next to pure biological changes, though, other forms of gender transgression connected to its social interpretation were also present. One sphere in which gender-related transgressive behaviour was often situated and that has received much scholarly attention, was religion. This transgressive character of religious practices was often inherent to the deities themselves. Dionysus, for instance, was well-known for being a sexually ambiguous figure, and by consequence, his rites were also closely associated with crossdressing (Bullough & Bullough, 1993). The same went for the Cyprian Aphroditus (or Venus Castina in Latin), “a divinity portrayed as having a female shape and clothing like Aphrodite, but also a beard and penis” (Raval, 2002). Several Roman deities as well “seem to have hesitated between the two sexes including Pales, Pomo-Pomona, and Tellumon-Tellurus-Tellus” (Bullough & Bullough, 1993, p. 31) and the Romans also adopted numerous cults from the Greeks that were characterised by transgressive behaviour (Bullough & Bullough, 1993). Both men and women were often involved in the cults connected to these and other deities and both engaged in transgressive behaviour (Holland, 2012).

Crossdressing, i.e. the appropriation of clothes stereotypically associated with the other sex, constituted one such form of gender transgression often found in religious practices and oftentimes functioned as a rite of passage; this is one of those instances in which disorder was momentarily allowed in order to avoid the eruption of chaos. Usually associated with male-to-female crossdressing, “the temporary adoption, and subsequent removal, of female clothing marked the adolescent’s transition to adulthood”(Raval, 2002, p. 150). However, crossdressing for women in a religious context was also deemed a possibility, though a far less documented one. There are some indications, for instance, of crossdressing of both men and women connected to wedding ceremonies in ancient Greece and also in relation to Greek religious rituals (Raval, 2002). Whether this was also the case in Rome remains uncertain, though the Romans did adopt quite a number of Greek ritual practices (Bullough & Bullough, 1993). In a religious context, then, gender transgression was often allowed and applauded; it was considered a ritual transgression of normal gender patterns, although often with the effect of strengthening them as well. One other form of gender

26 transgression in religion was the castration of male priests, often combined with crossdressing as well.30

Though crossdressing in a religious context was mainly connected to men, religion in general proved to be a fertile breeding ground for transgressive women.31 Whilst “men perceived the public, collective action of women as a threat to the stability of the male establishment” (Staples, 1998), religion was the one sphere where the public action of women was tolerated (Staples, 1998). Thus, the act of transgression lied in the simple act of participating in public rituals; this type of behaviour would have never been allowed in daily life.32 Religion did still come with strict regulations, though, and women’s religious behaviour was in most cases still aimed at strengthening existing norms. Women’s participation in ritual, then, forms the perfect example of gender transgression, both breaking and strengthening gender patterns. This ambiguous character of the female role in religion is exemplified by the Vestal Virgins. As Beard (1997) points out, Vestal Virgins walked the thin line between virgo (virgin) and matrona (married woman), and male and female. Though virgins, they were associated with fertility rites (Pomeroy, 1995), were dressed in the stola (robes worn by married women; Beard, 1997) and wore their hair like that of a bride on her wedding day (Beard, 1997). Moreover, their relationship with the pontifex maximus (head priest) showed similarities with that between a husband and wife (Beard, 1997). The Vestal Virgins, then, were not virgines in the pre-married literal sense of the word, but represented the pudicitia (chastity) associated with Roman matronae (Beard, 1997). Thus, the Vestal Virgins transgressed the boundaries between two Roman categories of women, namely that of the virgo and the matrona. Furthermore, the Vestal Virgins also enjoyed privileges and rights that are traditionally only attributed to men (Beard, 1997); Pomeroy (1995) even went as far as claiming that the Vestal Virgins were “the most emancipated women in Rome” (p. 213) since they were not permanently bound to the power of a pater familias. “Permanently” proves to be the key word here; they did still owe obedience to the pontifex maximus. Naturally, the Vestal Virgins only form one category within the group of Roman religious women; apart from female priests, women, like men, also participated in the everyday practices of religion connected to the household gods (Holland, 2012).

Apart from religion, however, gender transgression could also be found in daily life.33 In order to grasp the transgression of gender norms in Roman society, though, it is first necessary to demarcate

30 Roscoe (1996) for instance, examines the combination of the two by studying the gender transgression inherent to the cult of Cybele and Attis as it is performed by the galli, castrated priests that engage in crossdressing and were seen as androgynous figures, thus constituting a third gender.

31 Ample attention has been paid to the religious role of women in ancient Greece and Rome; the works cited list contains multiple studies on women from antiquity that devote at least one chapter to women’s role in religion. 32 The same also goes for male crossdressing, of course. 33 However, since religion both reflected and constructed the gender differences and categories present in Roman society (Beard, 1997), a clear-cut distinction between religion and everyday life cannot be made. Roman society and religion were intricately connected to one another, both belonging to the same cultural institution (Staples, 1998). Consequently, the transgressing of boundaries that we found in, for instance, the Vestal Virgins could be considered as indicative of similar behaviour in real life as well (Staples, 1998).

27 what social norms connected to gender existed. First of all, the spaces that each gender could inhabit were strongly segregated and thus highly gendered34 : the public space belonged to men, whilst the private sphere was the domain of women. Consequently, men took upon themselves all the public roles, excluding women from playing any constitutional part and from voting rights (Marin, 2006; Pomeroy, 1995; Staples 1998). Hence, men belonged to the public sphere of politics, whilst women were firmly entrenched within the house. Secondly, as a consequence of these gendered spaces, the social relations between men and women were subjected to a clear power hierarchy that attributed the proper social roles to men and women. Simply put, “the husband’s role is to take care of what is outside the house and the wife’s to care for what is inside” (Fantham, 1994, p. 71). Thus, the ideal man was meant to actively control his possessions, both the objects and the subjects that fall under his authority (Marin, 2006), whilst a respectable woman was passive, silent and subservient, obeying her husband’s every command (Fantham, 1994; Frontisi-Ducroux, 2003; Lauriola, 2012), for this was the bargain she struck when she married him (Kleiner & Matheson, 1996).

To be a man, then, meant to be head of a household, managing the estate, mastering the slaves, fathering children and controlling their wives (Rubarth, 2014). Consequently, as Foxhall & Salmon (1998) point out, “the very definition of masculinity and male power (hegemonic or otherwise) frequently includes the control of specific women whose associated submission manifests, symbolises and highlights male superiority” (p. 4-5). Controlling women was, in other words, an inherent element of masculinity. Thus, all men, no matter what social class they belonged to, were always masculine in the sense that they always dominated the women from their own class (Foxhall & Salmon, 1998).

Thirdly, as a consequence of these active and passive roles, men and women performed different functions. Their main preoccupation consisted of procreation, since the marriage contract explicitly stated this was the sole purpose of marriage (Balsdon, 1962; Kleiner & Matheson, 1996) and men were in need of legitimate heirs (Staples, 1998). Apart from the task of reproducing children, women were also responsible for the rearing of these children, a task that rooted them firmly within the confines of the house, taking care of the household and engaging in womanly tasks like spinning and weaving (Frontisi-Ducroux, 2003; Lauriola, 2012). For men, on the other hand, violence formed an important expectation they had to live up to(Foxhall & Salmon, 1998). Being a male prerogative, women were denied the right to violence (Foxhall & Salmon, 1998), and consequently men were in charge of protecting their fragile women, by fighting wars for their sake (O’Gorman, 2006). By consequence, heroism and courage were also considered the domain of men (Frontisi- Ducroux, 2003; Rubarth, 2014). Apart from fathering children and fighting battles, men were also burdened with the task of political participation, which did not only entail voting, but also meant serving on different committees, acting on juries, joining political associations and arguing and being informed about politics (Rubarth, 2014). It seems like men had quite a lot on their plates. Women, however, did have another important task, namely the preservation of their virtue and chastity. A woman’s virtue was both a private concern, meant to preserve her husband’s possessions (Sebesta, 1997), and a public matter as well (Dixon, 2007), since it could implicate the entire community. However, since women were considered creatures of excessive emotions, they could not be trusted to guard their

34 We will come back to Bolton’s (2009) notion of gendered spaces in our discussion of the Heroides.

28 own chastity; this was yet another duty that befell their husbands. Apart from controlling their wives’ virtue, men were also expected to engage in a ritual of self-discipline as well (Marin, 2006).

These are, in a nutshell, the most important social norms regarding the relationship between men and women.35 Despite these very strict regulations, though, men and especially women did manage to play around with the boundaries of these norms. As mentioned above, Roman society especially recognised the need for sporadic outbursts of transgressive behaviour. Thus it seems that, in reality, there was always room for negotiation.

Roman women, for instance, did sometimes achieve to “wring concessions out of the political system” (Staples, 1998, p. 3), either through an informal influencing of their male relatives or through a “politics of protest” (Staples, 1998, p. 3). However, as Staples (1998) reminds us “despite their achievements and accomplishments women never did achieve any degree of political authority in their own right. Nor did they ever pose a real threat to the political dominance of men” (Staples,1998, p. 2). Moreover, as Lauriola (2012) points out, in those cases where women broke their silence to fight for their rights, these rights were still greatly gendered, since they often consisted of a “defence of roles to which, in the end, women were confined, i.e. their role within the family, and not tout court within the society”(p. 43). Thus, their transgression of the norm to remain silent was at the same time a confirmation of their social roles as women.36 As for their other social roles, it was deemed a possibility for women to attain the self-discipline that was normally associated with men. However, this was considered as an appropriation of the manly virtue (andreia) and, consequently, these women were considered as men trapped in the body of a woman. In other words, women transgressed their social roles as befits our definition of gender transgression, always managing to both cross and confirm the boundaries at the same time, always on the verge of crossing the boundary of acceptable behaviour.

Stories about male transgressions, were, however, much more common than those of their female counterparts; male transgression was a lot less tolerated and thus deserved more attention. For example, instances of male-to-female crossdressing also occurred in daily life and were recorded by Latin authors. Cicero and Plutarch37, for instance, tell the story of Clodius, a Roman politician of the first century BC, who reportedly infiltrated the all-female religious Bona Dea rites by dressing up as a female musician in order to meet up with his mistress Pompeia Sulla, the wife of Caesar (Bullough & Bullough, 1993). Similarly, Suetonius mentions the crossdressing habits of the emperor Caligula, who had the habit of dressing up as Venus in public (Bullough & Bullough, 1993). Ancient mythology also contained references to crossdressing, as for example in the stories of Achilles and Hercules.38 Men, then, could be unmanly for two reasons, either because they were womanly, transgendered and/or sleeping with other men, or because they were womanizers who preferred love above war

35 The social norms here discussed will be vital for our discussion of the Heroides as well. 36 Interestingly, Lauriola (2012) situates this type of speaking out in favour of preserving the rights of being a mother, or a loving wife in ancient Greek myths like that of Medea, Antigone and Clytaemnestra. The Greek mythological characters from the Heroides seem to be engaging in similar behaviour, as we shall discuss later. 37 Cic. Att. 1.12; Plut. Caes. 9-10. 38 Achilles was said to have dressed as a woman in order to avoid fighting in the Trojan war; he was unmasked by Odysseus, however. The story of Hercules will be told by Deianire in the Heroides and thus we will come back to this later.

(Loughran, n.d.). Furthermore, men could also be considered transgressive by not performing the social roles we previously mentioned in the proper manner. Thus a man who does not take upon himself the role of controller, or protector, or soldier could be seen as transgressive. This type of male transgression will be vital for our discussion of the Heroides.

Reactions to transgressive behaviour in daily life were varied, as opposed to their occurrence in religion, and were often gendered as well. Traditionally, men engaging in gender-related transgressive behaviour were considered weak, and accusing a man of womanly behaviour was a great insult and a means of denigration (Raval, 2002). Transgressive women, on the other hand, could be perceived as both negative and positive (Bullough & Bullough, 1993; Raval, 2002). Accusing a woman of male behaviour could in some circumstances even be considered a compliment (Raval, 2002). This discrepancy can be easily explained; Romans were simply much more preoccupied with male transgressors than female. However, as was previously mentioned, men did fear the collective and public actions of women (Staples, 1998); in real life, then, women had to tread very carefully when purposefully crossing the boundaries and had to be wary of unwittingly engaging in transgressive behaviour. Moreover, responses to the transgressive behaviour of women were rather unpredictable, ranging from near deification to outright demonization. Antiquity was characterised by that very ambivalent attitude towards women (Staples, 1998) that would reoccur throughout history and would be eternalised by the Bible in the Eve-Virgin Mary dichotomy. As a woman from antiquity, then, your transgressive behaviour could earn you the title of moral exemplum or source of all evil. As Roscoe (1996) points out “the violation of social boundaries, especially those as fundamental to daily life as male and female, tears the very fabric of reality for those who witness it” (p. 24). By consequence, the reactions to gender transgression varied from awe to horror (Roscoe, 1996).

The transgressions of gender that could be found both in religion and daily life form a vital background for understanding gender transgression in the Heroides. Even though we are now entering the realm of literature, the representations that form a part of this world came into being within a larger societal context and could thus be considered as reflections of the structures in daily life. Granted, literature appropriates these structures in its own way, creating literary types of both men and women, often connected to specific genres, that may be grounded in real life, but that in some ways also exaggerate and magnify reality. Thus, when it comes to women, we can for example find the literary types of the faithful wife, the helper maiden, the evil seductress, the raped maiden, etc., whilst men more often get the roles of soldier, hero, hunter; these types all fit quite nicely within the boundaries of the social norms we have just discussed. When it comes to the Heroides, then, we are proceeding to the realm of myth, that of course comes with conventions of its own. Even though myths are today often considered as false, untrue stories, originally they were not conceived as such and could be seen as containing valuable information about underlying societal structures (Pomeroy, 1995; Spentzou, 2003). Thus, even though they are literary types, the images of men and women we can find in the Heroides could be said to reflect the social norms of real life that we just discussed. Consequently, the heroines of the Heroides can give us valuable insights into women’s experiences from the past. Time to let these heroines speak for themselves.

PART II: DEFIANT AND COMBATIVE WOMEN: GENDER TRANSGRESSION IN OVID’S HEROIDES The Heroides. The title itself almost seems to be a contradiction in terms. Female heroes. Heroines. What makes them worthy of that title, though? Definitely not the traditional quests and exploits we would associate with their male counterparts, right? Though women might not have undertaken these quests, they did often feature in them. What makes these women heroines, then, is the simple fact that they are associated with and form a part of the stories of heroes. They are, in other words, heroes by association. What roles did they play, then, in the stories the great deeds of men? The role of helpless maiden in need of rescue, like Andromeda, perhaps? Or that of the passive victim of male lust, like Persephone? I cannot help but to feel a bit uneasy about this picture. Were these heroines really nothing more than passive, silent women whose only role in the story was to enhance and magnify the great deeds of men? Or is there more to them than meets the eye? From a feminist perspective, I am more inclined to accept the latter option. The heroines from ancient myths are much more than just characters in the stories of men. Think about Sophocles’ Antigone, Euripides’ Medea, Aristophanes’ Lysistrata. No, these heroines were definitely not the silent victims they are often made out to be. Though subordinated, they ultimately seem to resist being silenced. Ovid, it seems, shared this opinion (Beard, 2017). His Heroides are a celebration of the female voice. His heroines are heroines in their own right, having either faithfully awaited their husbands, who have, let us be honest, been absent for way too long, or having saved the hero’s live or helped him in becoming one.

It is for this reason that we here turn our attention to this remarkable piece of literature. Before we discuss the text into detail, however, it might be appropriate to start with some remarks on the nature and origin of the text. The Heroides, or Epistulae Heroidum as they are also called, consists of in total twenty-one letters that roughly speaking fall into two categories: the single (1-15) and the double letters (16-21). The single letters contain fifteen letters, each written by a heroine and addressed to her hero. These letters were probably divided into three books of five poems each (Holzberg, 2002; Reeson, 2001), a division which befitted the length of one papyrus roll and was often used by Augustan poets (Reeson, 2001), and were presumably published between 15 BC and 1 BC (Holzberg, 2002). The double letters consist of three paired letters, one written by the hero and one written by the heroine in response. These were written and published between 1 AD and 8 AD (Holzberg, 2002). Both the authenticity of some of the single letters and the double letters has been questioned, though, with some claiming that only those letters referenced in Ovid’s earlier work, the Amores, are authentic(Holzberg, 2002; Reeson, 2001);39the double letters are considered spurious because they were written at a later date. We follow Reeson’s (2001) opinion, though, and consider all the letters to be written by Ovid’s hand. Our research is not concerned with the question of authenticity. By consequence, we also follow the conventional ordering of the letters, which is as follows40:

39 According to this logic, letters 1-2, 4-7, 10-11 and 15 are the only authentic ones. 40 A small summary of each letter can be found in the appendix.

I. Penelope- Ulysses XII. Medea- Jason II. Phyllis- Demophoon XIII. Laodamia- Protesilaus III. Briseis- Achilles XIV. Hypermestra- Lynceus IV. Phaedra- Hippolytus XV. Sappho- Phaon V. Oenone- Paris XVI. Paris- Helen VI. Hypsipyle- Jason XVII. Helen-Paris VII. Dido- Aeneas XVIII. Leander- Hero VIII. Hermione- Orestes XIX. Hero- Leander IX. Deianira- Hercules XX. Acontius- Cydippe X. Ariadne- Theseus XXI. Cydippe- Acontius XI. Canace- Macareus

Several ordering principles have been proposed; some structure the letters according to the alternation between death and survival, while others look at the alternation between tragic and non- tragic heroines (Reeson, 2001). We, however, have chosen a different ordering principle that best befits our discussion of gender transgression in the Heroides. For the purposes of our research, this is the best way of dividing the different letters. However, we do not presume to know Ovid’s mind and thus we have to point out that these letters prove to be very hard to categorise. It seems like our heroines dislike being put into labelled boxes and thus more than once we will encounter heroines that feel more comfortable inhabiting the borderlands.

We have chosen the following course in our discussion of the Heroides. First of all, we have chosen to focus solely on the single letters. Since the double letters also contain a male voice, the dynamics of these epistles are entirely different and a bit more complex than those of the single letters. It is our belief that, in order to do the double letters justice, a thorough understanding of the single letters is needed.41 Secondly, we have divided our discussion into two chapters. In a first chapter we briefly focus on the macro-level of the text. How is gender transgression inherent to 1) the author himself, 2) the genre of the text, 3) the act of writing by women, and 4) the fact that the letter-writers are women? In the second chapter we dig a little deeper and dive into the world of the myths and the heroines themselves, almost as if we were characters in their stories ourselves. Here we have chosen our very own structuring principle, which we will further explain in said chapter itself.

41 Spentzou (2003) has, for example, already provided a very detailed study of the double letters that forms an interesting starting point for further research.

3. Chapter III- The transgressive nature of (writing) women and epistolary amorous fiction

3.1. The male side of the picture: gender transgression inherent to the author and the genre Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis,

Nec mea Lethaeis scripta dabuntur aquis:

Atque aliquis dicet ‘nostri lege culta magistri

Carmina, quis partes instruit ille duas

Deve tribus libris, titulus quoes signat Amorum,

Elige, quid docili molliter ore legas

Vel tibi composita cantetur Epistola voce

Ignotum hoc aliis ille novavit opus.’42

~ Ovid- Ars Amatoria, book 3, lines 339-34643

In order to establish the transgressive nature of the Heroides on a macro-level, we first have to discuss what I call the male side of the picture. Throughout history men have always been the main producers of literature, and, by consequence, literary genres were mostly a male invention as well. Ovid nicely embodies this idea; being a male author, he uses this male privilege of creating new genres to its full advantage, often employing it in a transgressive manner. Thus on explanation for the occurrence of gender transgression in the Heroides already lies in its author and the genre he has (reportedly) created.

Ovid himself is transgressive for two reasons. First of all, Ovid crosses certain boundaries simply by being a man. Thus, Ovid represents the tension between male and female authorship and, consequently, between male and female perspectives as well, by writing the Heroides as a male author, thus creating a complex interplay of gender relations on several levels. As a man, Ovid narrates the experiences of female mythological characters, who he, in in their turn, presents as picking up the pen in an attempt to write their own stories. As if matters were not complicated enough, Ovid drives this tension to its limits in the double letters, where he alternates the male voices with female ones. By consequence, Ovid appropriates both the male and the female voice. Naturally, it is difficult to determine to what extent Ovid has here appropriated a female writing style, whatever this might entail (Kauffman, 1986; Rimell, 2009). Although there is a general idea that a woman’s voice differs from that of a man, determining what these voices are characterised by

42 “Perhaps too my name will be joined to theirs, nor will my writings be given to Lethe’s waters; and someone will say, “Read the elegant poems of our master, wherein he instructs the rival parties; or from the three books marked by the title of Loves choose out what you may softly read with docile voice; or let some Letter be read by you with practised utterance; he first invented this art, unknown to others”.” Translation taken from Mozley (1929). 43 The Latin text was taken from Mozley (1929) 33

remains challenging. We can, however, state that Ovid did intent the Heroides to carry a distinctive feminine voice (Spentzou, 2003).

Secondly, Ovid himself was a transgressive figure and could be considered, as Fabre-Serris & Keith (2015) phrased it, a “subversive, gender-and genre-bending”44 author. Several scholars45 have connected multiple of Ovid’s works to genre-bending and often associate this with a transgression of gender conventions as well.46When it comes to the Heroides, Ovid himself even went as far as boldly claiming he had invented a new genre; in the passage from his Ars Amatoria quoted above, he refers to the Heroides (epistula) as an art form he has invented (Kauffman, 1986). As Kauffman (1986) points out, however, “long dramatic monologues by passionate heroines and love letters- authentic and fictional- certainly existed before the Heroides” (p. 31). What was so innovative then about this new genre that Ovid claims to have created? It seems that the novelty of the Heroides lies in precisely the genre-bending that Ovid was known for; it consists of a mixture of the epistolary genre, the love elegy and the mythological stories that formed the core of the epic and tragic genre as well (Kauffman, 1986). What makes it even more interesting, though, is the fact that each genre also comes with specific gendered conventions. In other words, by transgressing genre conventions, Ovid simultaneously also crossed gender norms, thus living up to his role as transgressive author. He seems to have stretched the boundaries of these genre-gender conventions to their limits, playing around with their boundaries, both confirming and transgressing them. Let us have a look, then, at how these different genres, first separately and then combined, represent gender transgression.

Both the epistolary genre and the genre of love elegy can be considered as transgressive, both affirming and breaking gender conventions, a potential that the heroines use to their advantage.47 The Heroides can be considered elegiac in terms of its content and meter and thus conforms to some of the conventions associated with the genre of Latin love elegy. Traditionally, the love elegy centres on a male lover, whose only purpose in life is to pursue love which enslaves him to the woman he craves (Lindheim, 2003). Thus, the lover-poet is represented as the weak toy of a cold-hearted mistress, “turning his back on public affairs of state, especially on war, on heroism, and on socially sanctioned moral behaviour”(Lindheim, 2003, p. 16). And celebrating instead “his personal suffering, complaining about his beloved’s faithlessness, accusing her of betrayal, lamenting her lack of love, supplicating her to remain his”(Lindheim, 2003, p.17). Though the lover-poet transgresses gender norms, the puella confirms them by remaining silent and passive. Although she is pulling the strings of the man’s heart, she does not control her own narrative, which is written down by the poet. This transgressive character of the Latin love elegy seems to be inherent to its theme, love itself; as Spentzou (2003) points out, love is inherently conflictual, bringing people together, but also tearing them apart.

44 As Lindheim (2003) points out, experimenting with conventions of genre was typical for Augustan poets in general, but especially of Ovid. 45 See for example Kauffman (1986), Lindheim (2003), Rimell (2009), Spentzou (2003). 46 Some scholars also solely focus on the aspect of gender transgression, without necessarily connecting this to the transgression of genre. See for example Bolton (2009) and Heath (2011). 47 Since several scholars have paid ample attention to the elegiac nature of the Heroides, there is less of an urgent need to discuss the genre in more detail. 34

The heroines make good use of the love elegy’s transgressive nature. Since the female characters are the ones holding the pen, they take upon themselves the role of the lover-poet, instead of the puella- part that is normally reserved for them. Just like the lover-poet they bemoan their fate, reminiscing about better days, using their letters to supplicate their lovers to come back. However, whilst the heroines thus break with the conventions of the elegiac genre, they also partly confirm it; apart from the fact that they are given a voice, they also confirm he woman’s proper gendered space.48 To summarise, their love is what has led these heroines to the elegiac genre, which lends itself very well for bemoaning the absence of their lover. This absence also guides them to the epistolary genre, though, which offers them the opportunity to even further dismantle the elegiac puella and escape the enclosed space of the love elegy (Spentzou, 2003).

Similar to the elegiac genre, epistolary fiction also harnesses a potential for gender transgression. The genre, as Kauffman (1986) puts it, combines “elements usually regarded as opposites[…]” (p. 26), both confirming that these opposites exists and at the same time trying to reconcile them. There are three ways in which the epistolary genre combines opposites and plays with the boundaries that separate them. Firstly, the letters contain a central paradox, namely the fact that a necessary condition for writing a letter is the absence of the addressee (Lindheim, 2003; Spentzou, 2003).However, a letter is also written to try and bridge this distance, creating the illusion of closeness in order to deal with the distance that separates writer from addressee. Secondly, the epistolary genre comes with its own specific sense of time which particularly befits a female voice (Rimell, 2009; Spentzou, 2003). Spentzou (2003) describes it as follows:

“It is as if there is a narrative time pertaining specifically to the letters, cherished only by the women but completely unheeded by the men entangled in these stories. On a more explicit metaliterary level, this time seems to fall outside the established plot of the master male narratives of the past. It rather belongs to the new stories endorsed by the heroines who tarry in their own world-and their own word- and hesitate to move towards meeting their established (but shattering) fate and the plot prepared for them.”(p. 130)

Thus, women recognise the potential letter-writing brings them for changing traditional stories by slowing them down. For them, it is this moment that counts, this glimpse into their female experience of love and abandonment that does not find its equal in existing literature. If we want to know how their stories end, we simply have to turn our gaze to the rest of traditional literature. Lastly, letters are a medium well-suited for the expression of authentic emotions (Lindheim, 2003), which also makes it ideal for a combination with love elegy. Moreover, they allow the letter-writer to create a carefully constructed self-portrait and give them a chance to narrate their own story from their own experiences (Lindheim, 2003). Thus it seems that the epistolary genre would lend itself very well to feminist writers, as well. Although it might seem very transgressive for women to write letters, it seems like that is actually an inherent character of the epistolary genre; thus, the heroines are also confirming norms. If a woman was to write, a letter would have been the thing.

To conclude, the Heroides consist of a combination of these two genres, thus constituting a new genre of amorous epistolary fiction in which women take up the pen. We have shown how (gender)

48 We will later discuss how the heroines both transgress and confirm their proper gendered spaces. 35

transgression is inherent to both genres, because both follow generic conventions and simultaneously break them, often in a way that invites a gendered reading. Though their mythological story as it is told by other authors constitutes their reality, the female characters wish to escape it. Thus, the Heroides consists of “a poetics of fluidity within which concrete borders can move and smudge” (Rimell, 2009, p; 124), combining a genre that is traditionally male-centred, the love elegy, and a genre that reportedly suits women better than men, the epistolary genre.

3.2. The female side: defiant women picking up the pen After having established the male side of the Heroides, i.e. the transgressive nature of both its author and the genres that have been constructed by men, we now turn our attention to the female side of the story. Apart from the reasons we have already listed, The Heroides are transgressive merely because they consists of letters written by women. This statement can be divided into two parts: first of all, there is transgression in the act of women writing, and secondly in the fact that they are women. Let us explain.

As Heath (2011) proves in his article, storytelling was not simply a male prerogative; women also took upon themselves the role of storytellers and sang mythological tales. There are, for instance, allusions to a connection between female wool-working and the singing and telling of stories (Heath, 2011). These stories were told both in the woven cloth itself (i.e. the spinning of a story on the actual cloth) and in the oral storytelling and singing that took place whilst the women were weaving (Heath, 2011). These stories were often mythological in nature. When the heroines of the Heroides engage in a bit of storytelling themselves, they are essentially not being that transgressive. What is norm- breaking, though, is the fact that they went a step further, nor merely telling their stories, but writing them down as well, thus breaking with the private context in which they would have traditionally told these tales. In other words, their very act of writing constitutes an act of deviance; they go from scriptae puellae (“written girls”) to writing women (Spentzou, 2003), their act of writing a revolt against the male literature that had previously presented their experiences (Kauffman, 1986). By transgressing the boundaries of genre and gender, they also undermine the myths about women their culture had turned them into (Kauffman, 1988). Moreover, as Kauffman (1988) points out, the women write because it gives them a freedom that speech could not; when talking directly to a man, a woman must follow the rules of modesty. Picking up the pen, though, already entails a loss of integrity and thus modesty no longer prevents them from speaking (Spentzou, 2003). Lastly, the heroines also write out of pure necessity; since their lovers are absent, they cannot talk to them in person (Kauffman, 1986). However, even though the act of writing in itself was quite boundary- breaking for women in antiquity, the genre that the heroines have chosen tips the scales to the other side, namely that of affirming conventions. As we have stated earlier, the epistolary genre is highly connected with femininity (Spentzou, 2003). Thus, whilst writing in general constitutes a real act of defiance, the fact that they choose the epistolary genre creates a real case of transgression, since a norm is both broken and affirmed. To conclude, women in general were perceived as carrying an inherent contradiction, exhibiting both a tendency to morally outstanding and outright evil behaviour. Thus, the heroines embody this contradiction as well; both deviant and desiring, crossing and confirming gender norms at the same time. In the next part, we discuss their transgressive behaviour in more detail.

4. Chapter IV- Gendered spaces transgressed: the faithful wives and helper maidens of the Heroides 49 Res est solliciti plena timoris amor

Heroides I, line 1250

qua licet et sequitur, pudor est miscendus amori

dicere quae puduit, scribere iussit amor

Heroides IV, lines 9-10)51

“It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”, Lord Alfrey Tennyson once said. Phrased like that, love sounds pretty amazing. I doubt, though, whether the heroines of the Heroides would have agreed with that statement. Love can be a cruel master, “ever filled with anxious fear”, and of that the heroines could be considered experts. Whether it is disappointment or an unwavering trust in love, Cupid has pierced their hearts and, as it seems, their silence as well. Love has commanded every single one of these heroines to write and break with the modesty that befits them, a sentiment nicely expressed by Phaedra in the passage quoted above. How does Cupid spur these women on, then, to both break and confirm the social norms that ae connected to their relationship with men?

The Heroides and its heroines weave a complex web full of gendered controversies (Spentzou, 2003). Where do we begin, then, in untangling this beautiful mess? In our discussion of the social norms connected to gender in antiquity, we began by pointing out how men and women’s social roles were dependent on the gendered spaces they inhabit. It is these gendered spaces that will form our starting point and that function as basis of our categorisation of the different letters. As Bolton (2009) has shown, the Heroides represents the notion of gendered spaces. Women are connected to the earth, and more specifically the internal space of their house or bedroom, whilst men have the freedom to roam both land and sea. For a man, his proper space is anywhere but the house; the only business he has there lies in the reproduction of his children. Hero, in her letter to Leander, nicely summarises the proper space of a man and woman (Heroides XIX, lines 9-16):

Vos modo venando, modo rus geniale colendo

ponitis in varia tempora longa mora

aut fora vos retinent aut unctae dona palaestrae

49 All the fragments from the Heroides and their translations were taken from Goold (1914) 50 “Love is a thing ever filled with anxious fear.” 51 “Wherever modesty may attend on love, love should not lack in it; with me, what modesty forbade to say, love has commanded me to write.”

flectitis aut freno colla sequacis equi

nunc volucrem laqueo, nunc piscem ducitis hamo

diluitur posito serior hora mero

his mihi summotae, vel si minus acriter urar

quod faciam, superest praeter amare nihil (9-16)52

As Hero points out women are not supposed to proceed into the space reserved for men. Thus for women, any space that does not belong to the house becomes a marker of excessive sexual identity; women who leave the house are behaving in sexually wanton ways. Especially women who cross the sea are considered transgressive since this is perceived as an attempt to appropriate the unlimited sexual identity that belongs to men (Bolton, 2009). Based on this idea, Bolton divided the heroines in three categories: 1) those who stay firmly within the confines of their house, 2) those who leave the house and roam the land, but cannot move beyond it; and 3) those that successfully travel the seas. This categorisation lies at the basis of our division as well, though we have chosen to divide the heroines in two categories, depending on whether or not they leave the house, either by wandering the land or travelling the waters. Consequently, this chapter consists of two parts; one that focuses on the women who stay put, and one that focuses on those that don’t. In both cases, however, certain norms are both broken and confirmed by both the male and the female characters. Thus each character represents gender transgression in his or her own way.53 Consequently we have divided the letters based on the movements of the female characters, since they are the ones perceiving all the movements. However, the exact nature of the transgression not only depends on whether or not the characters leave their designated places, but also on the type of story we get. Therefore, each category is also characterised by a specific story pattern, either that of the faithful wife or that of the helper maiden. Based on this pattern, we have come to the following division:

52 “You men, now in the chase, and now husbanding the genial acres of the country, consume long hours in the varied tasks that keep you. Either the market-place holds you, or the sports of the supple wrestling-ground, or you turn with the bit the neck of the responsive steed; now you take the bird with the snare, now the fish with the hook; and the later hours you while away with the wine before you. For me who am denied these things, even were I less fiercely aflame, there is nothing left to do but love.”

53 Of course, the male transgressions are here perceived from a female perspective. Thus, the distinction we made between intentional and unintentional transgression seems to be difficult to apply to the Heroides. Since we only get the women’s perspective, all men are perceived to be engaging in transgressive behaviour and thus their behaviour in these stories is solely unintentional. If we want to know whether or not these men intentionally transgressed gender patterns, we would have to read traditional literature. Naturally, the same in part also goes for the women, since we are the ones perceiving their behaviour as transgressive. However, some of these women seem to exhibit an awareness of their transgressive behaviour and since they all intentionally break their silence by writing these letters, their transgressions might, at least in part, be considered intentional. 38

Women who stay put/ faithful wives Women who transgress their gendered space/helper maidens Penelope Phyllis Briseis Phaedra Hermione Oenone Canace Hypsipyle Laodamia Dido Hypermestra Sappho Deianira Ariadne (water) Medea (water) Of course, any attempt at categorisation is artificial; some women fit within their category better than others and each letter is also unique in its own way. We should simply consider the women that belong the same category as variations on a similar theme; although these letters often seem quite repetitive, they so much more than a mere repetition of the exact same thing. As Spentzou (2003) points out, “themes and concerns are triggered with one letter and pushed further, or exploded, or mitigated, or dismissed, or complicated by another or a series of others” (p. 39).

4.1. The subtle deviance of faithful wives in their designated space certe ego, quae fueram te discendente puella,

protinus ut venias, facta videbor anus”

(Heroides I, lines 115-6)54

Vir mihi semper abest, et coniuge notior hospes

(Heroides IX, line 33)55

These words, sprung from the mouths of Penelope and Deianira respectively, nicely summarise the type of story that is prevalent to the group of women that stay within their assigned space. All the stories belonging to this category of women begin with a husband/lover that has been, in the eyes of these women, absent for too long. And absence being the necessary condition for the epistolary amorous genre, these women pick up the pen and write their beloved a letter. We have baptised these letters “the faithful wife- stories”. Befitting women who do not cross their gendered spaces, these heroines are the embodiment of the faithful and virtuous wife and hence represent “the ‘preferred’ female role, at least in traditional (male) terms” (Bolton, 2009, p. 275). However, in their confirmation of their gendered space, these women, and their men as well, simultaneously break the

54 “As for myself, who when you left my side was but a girl, though you should come straightaway, I surely shall seem grown an aged dame.”

55 “My lord is ever absent from me- he is better known to me as guest than husband.” 39

gender norms we have previously discussed, namely 1) the gendered space, both a) his and b) hers, 2) both a) the active role of the man, and b) the passive role of the woman, 3) both a) the man as soldier and protector, and b) the woman as protected and housewife, and 4) the importance of self- discipline in both a) men and b) women. With each letter, we have examined how each of these norms is broken and/or confirmed by both the male and the female characters. The following pattern emerges after comparing the letters in this manner (the combination of the letters and the numbers refer to how we have just summarised them:

Penelope Briseis Hermione Canace Laodamia Hypermestra Deianira Confirmed 1 a) 1 a) 1 a) ? 1 a) 1 b) 1 b) 1 b) 1 b) 1 b) 1 b) 1 b) 2 a) 2 a) 2 a)? 2 a) 2 b) 2 b) 2 b) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 4 a) 4 b) 4 b) 4 b) 4 b) 4 b) 4 b) 4 b) Broken 1 a) 1 a) 1 a) 1 a)? 1 a) ( 1 b) ) (1 b) ) (1 b) ) 2 a) 2 a) 2 a) 2 a)? 2 a) 2 a) 2 a) 2 b) 2 b) 2 b) 2 b) 2 b) 2 b) 2 b) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 a) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 3 b) 4 a) 4 a) 4 a) 4 a) 4 a) 4 b)

Right now, it might seem like a bit of a colourful mess, but the next parts are devoted to untangling it. Let us start, then, before we as well have become “aged dames” from waiting.

4.1.1. Exemplary husbands and wives: the confirmation of gender norms We set off by looking at what gender norms are confirmed. Since this category consists of women who stay within their gendered spaces, it is only natural that this is the first gender norm they confirm. Consequently, we find these women in the enclosed space of their houses.

Their empty and cold beds seems to be their preferred spot, ideal for bemoaning the prolonged absence of their lovers. The first letter by Penelope immediately sets the tone, by wishing that Paris had never reached Sparta, since then “non ego deserto iacuissem frigida lecto”(Heroides 1, line 7).56 The other faithful wives are more than eager to follow in Penelope’s footsteps as well57, with

56 “Then had I not lain cold in my deserted bed.” 57 Both Canace and Deianira are also portrayed as being at home, though they do not as clearly reference their gendered space. Deianira does fleetingly mention she is currently at home, though (Heroides IX, line 36). 40

Hermione and Laodamia58 using the same imagery of the empty bed. Of course, Penelope, as the epiphany of the faithful wife has had ample time to practice. Twenty years is definitely sufficient time to grow used to an empty bed. Penelope seems to have become a bit too comfortable in her surroundings, though; she is adamant about not leaving her bed, even though her father is constantly trying to persuade her otherwise:

Me pater Icarius viduo discedere lecto

cogit et immensas increpat usque moras

increpet usque licet- tua sum, tua dicar oportet

Penelope coniunx semper Ulixis ero (Heroides 1, 81- 84)59

Penelope does not merely refuse to leave her bed because it is comfortable, then. Leaving her bedroom would entail a change in her sexual identity (Bolton, 2009), because then she would be giving in to the suitors and have to choose a new husband. 60 Penelope is not the only heroine who is fearful of leaving her gendered space the change in sexual identity this entails; both Briseis and Hermione share this anxiety. As the table above shows, in the case of Briseis and Hermione we also placed the transgression of the gendered space (1b) between brackets. The reason for this lies in the fact that both Briseis and Hermione have suffered displacement in the past (Bolton, 2009.61 As a spoil of war, Briseis was displaced by Achilles after he conquered her city. This displacement led to a change in her sexual identity, since, now widowed, and she was expected to become Achilles’ sex slave. Hermione was also displaced in a similar manner, taken from her home against her will by Pyrrhus. Again, this displacement threatens to change her sexual status, from faithful wife to Orestes, to captive mistress of Pyrrhus. Somewhat traumatised by these events, they are both not very keen to repeat this experience repeat itslf and thus firmly situate themselves within a confined space. For Briseis, for instance, Achilles’ tent has become her new interior space and, as Bolton

58 Nox ubi me thalamis ululantem et acerba gementem/ condidit in maesto procubuique toro (Heroides VIII, 107-8)- “But when the dark of night has fallen and sent me to my chamber with wails and lamentation for my bitter lot, and I have stretched myself prostrate on my sorrowful bed[…].”

Aucupor in lecto mendaces caelibe somnos (Heroides XIII, 107)- “I, in my widowed couch, can only court a sleep with lying dreams.” 59 “As for me, my father Icarius enjoins on me to quit my widowed couch, and ever chides me for my measureless delay: let him chide on- yours I am, yours must I be called; Penelope, the wife of Ulysses ever shall I be.”

60 As Bolton (2009) points out, though, Penelope’s confinement is also due to her literary tradition, since she cannot be the example of the faithful wife if she leaves her room. 61 Similar to Briseis and Hermione, Deianira also suffered a displacement in the past (Bolton, 2009); when the centaur Nessus tried to abduct and rape her, he carried her, against her will, over a river. Hercules, slighted by the abduction of his wife, killed the centaur. However, the centaur convinced Deianira that his blood could function as love potion and thus, when Deianira suspects Hercules is cheating on her with Iole, she attempts to use the blood in this manner, with dreadful consequences. Thus in a way, her crossing of the river also entailed a change in her sexual status, from faithful wife to the woman that would, unwittingly, kill her own husband.

(2009) points out, Briseis “does not willingly seek to travel beyond this know and familiar space”(p. 276). Hermione in a similar manner refuses to leave her bedroom, reminding us of Penelope’s refusal, even though this bedroom belongs to her enemy; she is determined to turn this bedroom into a token of her chastity (Bolton, 2009). Moreover, both characters are currently in a state of imprisonment; even if they wanted to, they could not leave their confined spaces.62

Even though Briseis and Hermione are clearly captives, neither of them are as confined as Hypermestra, who, in the embodiment of confinement, is writing her letter from prison. Hypermestra, then, is literally in chains: clausa domo teneor gravibusque coercita vinclis (Heroides XIV, 3)63. Although her bedroom was successful in preserving her status as faithful wife64, it led to her betrayal of her status as faithful daughter. Thus, she is thrown into prison by her father. Though none of the other women discussed in this section are as literally bound up as Hypermestra, they are all in a way prisoners of the love they hold for their lovers, which confines them to their proper gendered spaces.

Thus, these women find themselves in the ideal setting for the faithful wife. In the absence of their husbands, however, they are (sometimes rather forcibly) reminded of the fact that they are in need of protection which their husbands are supposed to provide. Consequently, a second norm that is confirmed is the husband’s status of protector/soldier and the woman’s dependence upon it; they affirm that they are the man’s possession.

The clearest example of this can be found in Penelope’s letter. Having for some time successfully tricked the suitors for some time, she now finds herself in a bit of a tricky situation. Like her, the suitors are growing restless in Odysseus’ prolonged absence and they have even attempted to murder her son. Thus Penelope becomes painfully aware of how little she can do to hold them off; being a woman, she simply does not have the strength (mentally or physically) to repel them: nec mihi sunt vires inimicos pellere tectis (Heroides I, 109)65. This small sentence is packed with norm- confirming imagery and makes clear that women do not possess the type of military strength that is preserved for men; vires refers to “bodily strength”, but also to “military forces” and pellere (“to repel”) has a distinctive military ring to it as well. At the same time though, this sentence also uses more personal language, words that are supposed to remind Odysseus of the home that requires his

62 Briseis, for instance, tells Achilles how she wished she could have run away from Agamemnon and return to Achilles’ tent (Heroides II, 17-19). However, her status as slave does not allow her to do so, unless someone orders her to, which also becomes clear by closing her letter with the words domini iuri venire iube, “By your right as master, bid me come.” (Heroides II, 154). Similarly, Hermione is unable to leave herself, simply lacking the physical strength to overcome Pyrrhus and return to her husband for herself; it seems like Orestes himself will need to come and rescue her.

63 “Kept close in the place am I, bound with heavy chains.” 64 She describes how, during the night when her sisters went on their killing spree, she was lying in her designated place, the marriage bed: sanguis abit, mentemque calor corpusque relinquit/inque novo iacui frigida facta toro (Heroides XIV, 37-8)- “My blood retreated, warmth left my body and soul and on my newly-wedded couch all chill I lay,” 65 “Nor have I strength to repel the enemy from our halls. 42

protection. For instance, Penelope transfers the fight from the battlefields of Troy to her own home with the word tectis. It almost seems like Penelope is trying to lure Odysseus home by representing it as the site of a new war; his property is now under siege. Thus, Penelope, after being mentally stable for twenty years, is now confronted with the fact that her mental strength falls awfully short of keeping her home safe; without her husband’s physical strength, she cannot get out of her current predicament. This sentiment is nicely expressed through her choice of the word vires. Apart from referring to physical strength, vires can also be used to reference mental strength. Now, I do not believe that Penelope is using this word to portray herself as stupid. A stupid woman could never have tricked the suitors the way she did. Rather, in my opinion, Penelope is here simply referring to the fact that she is tired; she has waited patiently for so long and no longer has the mental strength to keep on going.66 For a woman who claims lack of mental strength, she does seem to have a very good understanding of the male psyche; her words are carefully chosen to appeal to Odysseus’ role of protector. Her mental tiredness, however, does not affect her capacity to write this letter in a nice feat of emotional blackmail though.

Thus it seems that Penelope here again sets the tone; the other women each in their own way (with the exception of Canace) also stress their husband’s or lover’s role as protector. Briseis, for example, has attributed to Achilles the role of her new protector; after he had killed her previous protectors, namely her brothers, her father and her husband:Tot tamen amissis te conpensavimus unum/tu dominus, tu vir, tu mihi frater eras (Heroides III, 51-2)67. In the power structures as they then existed, all women were counted among the man’s possessions that required his protection. Hence, Briseis seems to find it logical that that role should now be taken up by Achilles. Our other captive, Hermione, takes a somewhat different route. Though she also confirms Orestes’ role as protector68 by sending him this letter as a plea for him to come and rescue her, Hermione is more focussed on stressing her own helplessness. Taking a leaf out of Penelope’s book, she engages in emotional blackmail from the very beginning of her letter, stressing how futile and insignificant her womanly efforts have been: quod potui, renui, ne non invita tenderer/ cetera femineae non valuere manus( Heroides VIII, 3-4). Boosting a man’s ego is always a good idea when trying to get what you want and the heroines have beautifully mastered this art. In a similar manner, Hypermestra also assigns the role of personal protector to Lynceus, asking him to come and rescue her from her predicament: at tu, siqua piae, Lynceu, tibi cura sororis/quaeque tibi tribui munera, dignus habes/vel fer opem, vel dede neci defunctaque vita/corpora furtivis insuper adde rogis/ et sepeli lacrimis perfuse fidelibus

66 Furthermore, Penelope does not only entice her husband to return for her own safety; she also refers to the others that fall under his care: tres sumus inbelles numero, sine viribus uxor/Laertesque senex Telemachusque puer – “We number only three, unused to war- a powerless wife, Laertes, an old man, Telemachus, a boy” (Heroides I, 97-8). With her choice of words she stresses their helplessness, thus trying to persuade him to come home; a fragile woman with no physical strength, an old man too aged to sway the sceptre and a child are no match for a throng of virile men. 67 “For so many lost to me, I still had only you in recompense; you were my master, you my husband, you my brother.” 68 In doing so, she also stresses how she is his possession and that he should come and claim her: Inice non timidas in tua iura manus( Heroides VIII, 16)- “Lay claim to your right with no timid hand.” 43

ossa (Heroides XIV, 123-127)69. She even turns it up a notch, literally giving Lynceus the power of life and death.

Finally, not all women stress the role of the man as their own personal protector, but simply refer to the man’s role as soldier. In the letter of Laodamia, for example, both Laodamia and Protesilaus are performing their designated parts simply because he, as the man, goes off to war, whilst she, as a woman stays behind. Laodamia hereby expresses the idea that men fight wars for the sake of women (O’Gorman, 2006), constantly imploring him to think of her when fighting. Deianira takes a similar path by stressing Hercules’ heroic deeds and adventures; with his quests, he has brought peace, as it would befit a soldier: se tibi pax terrae, tibi se tuta aequora debent;/ inplesti meritis solis utramque domum (Heroides IX, 15-6)70. She, in the meantime, has been at home, patiently awaiting his return. Hypermestra, on the other hand, emphasises the man’s role as soldier by reversing the situation: her father has ordered her to pick up the sword, but she is quick in pointing out that weapons do not belong in a woman’s hand: Quod mihi cum ferro? Quo bellica tela puella?/ aptior est digitis lana colusque meis (Heroides, XIV, 65-6)71. Thus, Hypermestra simultaneously confirms both the appropriate role for men and women ; while the hands of men are suited for fighting, those of women are made for the spinning wheel.

Last but not least, the faithful wives also confirm their duty of preserving their virtue. Even if the man has not fully performed his task, they certainly have fulfilled their roles as wives. There are several strategies the heroines employ. A first strategy is to emphasise their chastity, their wifely virtue.72 We have already seen how Penelope, for example, stressed her virtue by refusing to leave her gendered space and thus preventing a change in her sexual status as wife of Odysseus. In this manner, she hopes to prove to Odysseus that she is worth coming back to. In a similar way Briseis emphasises that her stay in Agamemnon’s tent has not led to a violation of her virtue; if this had been the case, Achilles might never have wanted her back. She is even bold enough to point out that, while she has been entirely faithful to him, he could probably not claim the same: Nulla Mycenaeum sociasse cubilia mecum/ iuro; fallentem deseruisse velis/ si tibi nunc dicam, fortissime: ‘tu quoque iura/nulla tibi sine me gaudia capta’, neges (Heroides III, 109-112/

Apart from emphasising their chastity, the heroines also use another strategy, namely stressing how they have performed the role of the worried wife to perfection. Penelope, for instance, though also breaking gender norms (cf. infra), wastes no time in informing Odysseus of her patience and virtue. Thus, Penelope describes how she harassed every person who entered her palace with questions

69 “But do thou, o Lynceus, if thou carest aught for thy sister and art worthy of the gift I rendered thee, come bear me aid, or, if it please thee, abandon me to death and when my body is done with life, lay it in secret on the funeral pile, and bury my bones moistened with faithful tears.”

70 “To you is owing peace upon the earth, to you safety on the seas; you have filled with worthy deeds both abodes of the sun.” 71 “What have swords to do with me? What has a girl to do with the weapons of war? More suited to my hands are the distaff and the wool.” 72 The only woman who cannot claim true virtuousness, is Canace, who committed incest with her brother, and bore a child outside of wedlock. She is completely virtuous, though, in accepting her fate and washing away her sin with her own blood. 44

about Odysseus’s whereabouts. It even seems that this letter is only one of the many that she has written, passing them on to every traveller in the hopes of reaching her husband: quisquis ad haec vertit peregrinam litora puppim,/ ille mihi de te multa rogatus abit,/quamque tibi reddat, sit e modo viderit usquam,/ traditur huic digitis charta notata meis (Heroides I, 59-62)73. Apart from thus harassing every stranger that she encounters, she also mentions how he was constantly on her mind whilst he was fighting in the war; each death that reached her ears pierced her with fear. Similarly, Laodamia also imagines what might be happening to her husband on the battlefield. Thus, both heroines are engaging in the strategy of the illusion that is so common for the epistolary genre; by picturing their husbands fighting, they can, at least for some time, shrink the distance that lies between them.74

Thus, at first glance, these heroines do not seem very special. They appear to be perfect, innocent wives who patiently await their husband’s return and kill the time by writing a letter. Appearances can be deceiving, though, as with each norm they confirm, they also break others at the same time. other words, these heroines present us with a textbook case of gender transgression.

4.1.2. Breaking through the mask of innocence: the subtle shattering of gender norms First of all, whilst all the heroines find themselves in their assigned gendered spaces, some heroes can be seen to transgress theirs75. It almost seems like man and woman can never both be in their appropriate places at the same time. Naturally, this is as much a consequence of the genre as it is part of the actual stories themselves; in order for the man to be absent enough to allow the woman to send him a letter, he must be outside of his normal gendered space. Nevertheless, some men are clearly not where they are supposed to be. Achilles, for example, though he currently finds himself in a scene of war, cannot be found on the battlefield itself. Instead, he sits in his tent, sulking and moping about the loss of his prize of honour (lines 115-120, cf. infra). There are also two instances where the man is simultaneously in the right and the wrong place. Odysseus, for instance, is essentially in his designated place, which during times of war is, of course, the battlefield. However, as Penelope points out, the war has long since ended and therefore, Odysseus’ natural place should be controlling his estate and roaming his lands: Sed mihi quid prodest vestris disiecta lacertis/ Ilios et, murus quod fuit, esse solum / si maneo, qualis Troai durante manebam/virque mihi dempto fine carendus abest? (Heroides 1, 47-50)76. Since the war is over, there is no reason why Odysseus should not be back home. The only other reason a man’s absence from his estate is tolerated, is when he is in pursuit of heroic deeds. This is certainly the case with Hercules and in that sense he also finds

73 “Whose turns to these shores of ours his stranger ship is plied with many a question ere he go away, and into his hand is given the sheet writ by these fingers of mine, to render up should he but see you anywhere.” 74 Both Laodamia and Deianira also pray for the safe return of their husbands. 75 The notable exception in this case is Protesilaus, who is where he is supposed to be, namely at war. Hypermestra gives us no indication of Lynceus’ whereabouts. However, it is clear that he is not by her side, which, it could be argued, would be the right place for him to be; as her husband, he should be protecting her from harm (cf. infra). The same could be said for Orestes, whose whereabouts also remain unknown, though Hermione makes it very clear that he should be crossing the sea to come and rescue her (cf. infra). Macareus’ whereabouts are also unknown, nor does Canace give us any hint as to where he might be. 76 “But of what avail to me that Ilion has been scattered in ruin by your arms, and that what once was wall is now level ground- if I am still to remain such as I was while Troy endured, and must live to all time bereft of my lord?” 45

himself in his proper space. However, as we shall discuss later, on one of those infamous quests, Hercules cross-dresses as a woman and can consequently also be found in the space appropriate for women, namely the house itself.

The other norms that are transgressed are a necessary consequence of this breaking with the gendered space. When we look at the table, it becomes apparent that one norm is consistently broken and confirmed, namely that of the man’s role as protector and the women’s role as in need of protection/ performing domestic tasks (cf. light blue and orange in the table). Let us have a look, then, at this first instance of gender transgression.

Ladies first, as they say. Firstly, we can find clear examples of how the heroines are not performing their wifely duties. One such duty, as we have mentioned before, was spinning and weaving. Although traditional literature promoted the image of the weaving Penelope, Ovid has chosen to only make one reference to this stereotypical image: nec mihi quaerenti spatiosam fallere noctem/ iassaret viduas pendula tela manus (Heroides I, 9-10).77 Thus, Penelope firmly pushed her loom aside. Instead of weaving, she chooses the rather unwomanly task of writing. Laodamia also portrays herself as neglecting her duties as wife in the absence of her husband: Nec mihi pectendos cura est praebere capillos/ nec libet aurata corpora veste tegi/ ut quas pampinea tetigisse Bicorniger hasta/ creditor, huc illuc, qua furor egit, eo (Heroides XIII, 31-4)78. In an entirely different manner, Canace is also not engaged in a task that would befit a woman; she is forced to take up the sword, a weapon that more befits a man, as she also points out in words that will later be echoed by Hypermestra (cf. supra): Num minus infestum, funebria munera, ferrum/ feminea teneo, non mea tela, manu? (Heroides XI, 19-20)79.

Slowly but steady, though, we see how the heroines muster their courage, subtly insulting the man, putting him in his place, whilst at the same time preserving their mask of innocence. This becomes especially apparent when the heroines start to describe the transgressive behaviour of the men. Some men are portrayed as not taking up their suitable role of protectors. In Hypermestra’s case for instance, it seems kind ofwrong that she should be the one protecting Lynceus, and suffer all the consequences for it. After having decided not to kill him, she woke up her husband with the message to flee while he could: dum nox atra sinit, tu fugis, ipsa moror (Heroides XIV, 78)80. In fact, his act of fleeing is the only instance of active behaviour we can find in Lynceus; for the rest of the time he has been passively lying in his bed: Ipse iacebas/ quemque tibi dederant vina, soporis eras (Heroides XIV,41-2)81. The world seems to have gone topsy-turvy a bit; a man, a real man, should not flee like

77 “nor would the hanging web be wearying now my widowed hands as I seek to beguile the hours of spacious night.” 78 “I care not now to let my hair be dressed, nor does it pleasure me to be arrayed in robes of gold. Like those whom he of the two horns is believed to have touched with his vine-leafed rod, hither and thither I go, where madness drives.”

79 “Is there less deadliness in the blade, my funeral gift, that I hold in my woman’s hand, weapon not meet for me?” 80 “While the dark night permits, you fly and I remain.” 81 “Yourself lay quiet in the grip of the sleep the wine had given you.”

this in the face of danger, should he? Nevertheless, Hypermestra does not blame or chide him for this in any way and is thus quite gentle with him. Similarly, Macareus should also take up his role as Canace’s protector; although they are not married, he at least owes her this because he is her brother. Canace does not blame him for anything, though and does not try to persuade him to come and rescue her.

Some of the other women are not as gentle, though, when accusing the man of not taking up his designated role. Notably Penelope, as we have seen, confirmed her husband’s role as protector by reminding him of those that are in need of his protection. However, in doing so, she also affirms that he is not there to perform the task; why does she have to be the one to keep the suitors at bay? Where is he? The very fact that she has to persuade Odysseus to come home, reminding him of his duties as a husband and father already indicates that she is somewhat disappointed in him. Why is it necessary of her, as a woman, to remind him of his tasks as a man? In a similar way, Achilles is also breaking with his designated role of protector; he does not only fail to protect Briseis, but in doing so also neglects to take up his manly duty as soldier. Violence, as we mentioned earlier, was considered a vital part of masculinity (Foxhall & Salmon, 1998); thus, by not fighting, Achilles is emasculating himself. Briseis decides to help this emasculation along a bit, mocking him for not fighting: Et quisquam quaerit quare pugnare recuses ?/ pugna nocet, citharae voxque Venusque iuvant/tutius est iacuisse toro, tenuisse puellam/Threiciam digitis increpuisse lyram/ quam minibus clipeos et acutae cuspidis hastam/ et galeam pressa sustinuisse coma (Heroides III, 115- 120)82. This passage functions as a perfect example of how the women of this category, though also emphasising their helpless and fragile status and boosting the man’s ego, also do not hesitate to take his ego down a few notches. What makes this passage so beautiful is the subtleness with which Briseis embraces this task; though not explicitly stating that this behaviour does not befit a man, her tone is rather acerbic. When referring to the helmet he is supposed to be wearing, it is almost as if she is accusing him of vainness; the helmet might ruin his coiffure. Moreover, by portraying him as rather being in the pursuit of Venus, Briseis is slowly emasculating him; as stated earlier, one way in which a man could be considered unmanly was if he rather pursued love than war (Loughran, n.d.). Hermione also attacks Orestes’ manhood in the same subtle way. Though she otherwise appears as an innocent and helpless maiden, we should not underestimate her. She cannot help but wonder what is taking Orestes so long and subtly insults him with the following sneer: An siquis rapiat stabulis armenta reclusis/ arma feras, rapta coniuge lentus eris? (Heroides VIII, 17-8)83. She then goes on to point out to him that it is his duty as her husband as well as her cousin to rescue her. When his mother and her lover killed his father, did he hesitate to take up arms then? So why this delay? Laodamia emasculates Protesilaus in her own way as well by stating that Protesilaus is not the type of man that

82 “And does anyone ask wherefore do you refuse to fight? Because the fight brings danger; while the zither and song and Venus bring delight. Safer is it to lie on the couch, to clasp a sweetheart in your arms, to tinkle with your fingers the Thracian lyre, than to take in hand the shield, and the spear with sharpened point and to sustain upon your locks the helmet’s weight.” 83 “Should anyone break open your pens and steal away your herds, would you resort to arms? And when your wife is stolen away you will be slow to move?” 47

should be fighting and by describing how he stumbles on the threshold when leaving her, thus betraying some fear for his future career as a soldier.84

The epiphany of emasculation, though, can be found in Deianira’s letter. Although she describes Hercules’ great heroic deeds, she cannot refrain from also mentioning how he has not been behaving in a very manly way of late. Her husband, the hero who has conquered all those monsters and beasts, has been conquered by a woman, Omphale. And to make matters even worse, they played a game of crossdressing, Omphale playing the man, dressed in Hercules’ signature lion skin, carrying his club, Hercules dressed up as a woman, weaving and spinning. This questionable behaviour provokes Deianira to doubt Hercules’ identity as famous hero:

Non puduit fortis auro cohibere lacertos,

et solidis gemmas opposuisse toris ?

nempe sub his animam pestis Nemeaea lacertis

edidit, unde umerus tegmina laevus habet !

ausus es hirsutos mitra redimire capillos !

aptior Herculeae populus alba comae.

nec to Maeconia lascivae more puella

incingi zona dedecuisse putas?

[…]

inter Ioniacas calathum tenuisse puellas

diceris et dominae pertimuisse minas

( Heroides IX, 59-66+ 73-4)85

If Hercules had not been ashamed of this transgressive behaviour before, he sure will be now. She lands him a final blow later, pointing out how Omphale was the real man in the relationship: quo tu non esses, iure vir illa fuit (Heroides IX, 106)86. Yet, Hercules still thought himself manly enough to tell the stories of his great exploits whilst lying there, dressed as a woman. However, as Heath (2011) pointed out, it would not have been uncommon for women to tell such tales whilst weaving and

84 forties ille potest multo, quam pugnat, amare/ bella gerant alii, Protesilaus amet (Heroides XIII, 83-4)- “his might is greater far in love than on the field. Let others go to the wars; let Protesilaus love.” 85 “Felt you no shame to bind with gold those strong arms, and to set the gem upon that solid brawn? Ah, to think ‘twas these arms that crushed the life from the Nemean pest, whose skin now covers your left side! You have not shrunk from binding your shaggy hair with a woman’s turban! More meet for the locks of Hercules were the white poplar. […] They say that you have held the wool-basket among the girls of Ionia, and been frightened at your mistress’ threats.”

86 “She has proved herself a man by a right you could not urge.” 48

thus, quite paradoxically, Hercules is actually stressing his female nature by recounting his manly deeds. Deianira seems to think otherwise, though; she asks how he can recount those deeds whilst being dressed in women’s clothes, since this should inspire silence: haec tu Sidonio potes insignitus amictu/ dicere? Non cultu lingua retenta silet? (Heroides IX, 101-2)87. In other words, a woman should remain silent. Ironically enough, though, Deianira is guilty of the same crime; her female clothing has not stopped her from breaking her silence, either.

This guides us neatly to the next set of gender norms that are broken. In all cases, the norm of the woman as the passive, silent and subdued subject and the role of the man as active agent , exacting the silence of the woman, is transgressed. This is naturally a logical consequence of the fact that the men do not take upon themselves the active role of protector. Firstly, all women break their silence by writing these letters; instead of patiently enduring their beloved’s absence, they have had enough of remaining silent and decide to pick up the pen. The pen is mightier than the sword, they often say, and it seems these heroines do this saying justice. Since their men are absent, they can no longer exert their control; thus they fail to take up their roles as controllers. Add to this that these women have been waiting for a long time and it is no wonder that they have had enough of remaining mute.

Consequently, to legitimate their speaking out, some of the women refer to the fact that their writing has been long overdue by emphasising the prolonged absence of their lovers. Penelope, for instance, begins and ends her letter with a reference to Odysseus’ slow return; she starts her letter by addressing Odysseus as lento (“slow”; Heroides I, 1) and ends it by pointing out that by the time he returns, she will surely have become an old woman (lines 115-6). Other women, like Laodamia, stress how they really strived to remain silent, and managed to do so in the presence of their husbands, but can now no longer bear it; whilst she did not dare to speak out at the moment of his departure, his absence and the distance have made it possible for her to express her worries and implore him to be careful (lines 7-8; 85-6).

If ever there was a woman who was not supposed to speak out, Briseis would definitely be the one. Not only a woman, but a slave to boot, she should definitely remain silent. Furthermore, to make matters even worse, Briseis even places herself above some of the Greek commanders, claiming that she could succeed where they have failed; let her talk to Achilles, and he will swiftly resume the fighting: Mittite me, Danai! Dominum legata rogabo/ multaque mandatis oscula mixta feram/ plus ego quam Phoenix, plus quam facundus Ulixes/ plus ego quam Teucri, credite, frater agam (Heroides III, 127-130)88. Even Hermione, the innocent maiden, is anything but subservient; though boosting up Orestes’ ego, she cannot help but notice how her father was much more of a man than he currently is: Nec tu mille rates sinuosaque vela pararis/ nec numeros Danai militis- ipse veni/ sic quoque eram

87 “These deeds can you recount, gaily arrayed in a Sidonian gown? Does not your dress rob from your tongue all utterance?”

88 “Send me, O Danai. I will be ambassadress and supplicate my lord, and carry many kisses mingled with my message. I shall achieve more than Phoenix, believe me, more than eloquent Ulysses, more than Teucer’s brother.” 49

repetenda tamen, nec turpe marito/aspera pro caro bella tulisse toro (Heroides VIII, 23-26)89. She does not expect him to launch a thousand ships in order to avenge her abduction, like her father did. However, in saying so, she does in passing nicely point out that a man should at least launch one ship when his wife is taken from him. Almost imperceptibly, Hermione is ordering him about, made clear in the use of the imperative veni. Canace uses a similar strategy.Though in a lot of ways a picture of subservience, not going against her father’s wishes, she does expect Macareus to obey her wishes and bury her body with that of their son.

Moreover, some of the heroines go even further, accusing the man of having an affair. Again Penelope takes the lead. After just having described how faithful she has been, worrying over his safety, she juxtaposes her virtue with the probability of his betrayal: Haec ego dum stulte metuo, quae vestra libido est/ essse peregrino captus amore potes/forsitan et nares, quam sit tibi rustica coniunx, quae tantum lanas non sinat esse rudes (Heroides I, 75-8)90. It is simply in the nature of men to not be faithful to their wives. Some part of her still seems to believe in his innocence and she hopes that she is mistaken. If only she knew… Deianira thought she did know for sure, though. Upon hearing that Hercules has returned from his latest quest with another woman at his arm, she believes Hercules has allowed yet another woman to conquer him: fama Pelasgiadas subito pervenit in urbes/ decolor et factis infitianda tuis,/ quem numquam Iuno seriesque immensa laborum/fregerit, huic Iolen inposuisse iugum (Heroides IX, 3-6)91. This proved to be the final straw for her. Although she has learned to bear his long absences as best as humanly possible, she finds that she can no longer bear his amorous exploits (lines 47-8). As she so nicely phrases it, any child could be his spawn. Though she states she will not mention these amorous affaires, in passing she has actually mentioned them: Non ego Partheniis temeratam vallibus Augen,/ nec referam partus, Ormeni nympha, tuos;/ non tibi crimen erunt, Teuthrantia turba, sorores,/ quarum de populo nulla relicta tibi est. (Heroides IX, 49- 52)92. In other words, Deianira justifies the writing of this letter by pointing out that she has been very patient with him, not only bearing his long absences, but enduring the fact that he has spent most of his time away locked in the embrace of another woman. Thus, it seems that these women in some way find themselves to be superior to the man; whilst he is away doing god knows what with god knows whom, they have remained entirely faithful. Rather unsurprisingly then, Deianira wonders if her marriage would not have been more successful if she had married her equal and goes on to

89 “Yet make not ready a thousand ships with bellying sails, and hosts of Danaan soldiery-yourself come! Yet even thus I might well have been sought back, nor is it unseemly for a husband to have endured fierce combat for love of his marriage-bed.” 90 “While I live on in foolish fear of things like these, you may be captive to a stranger love- such are the hearts of you men! It may be you even tell how rustic a wife you have- one fit only to dress fine the wool.” 91 “ The rumour has suddenly spread to all the Pelasgian cities- a rumour unseemly, to which your deeds should give the lie- that on the man whom Juno’s unending series of labours has never crushed, on him Iole has placed her yoke.”

92 “I will say nothing of Auge betrayed in the vales of Parthenius, or of thy travail, nymph sprung of Ormenus, nor will I charge against you the daughters of Teuthras’ son, the throng of sisters from whose number none was spared by you […].”

give the advice si qua voles apte nubere, nube pari (Heroides IX, 32), “would you be wedded happily, wed your equal”. The wisdom of these words would, no doubt, still apply today.

What seems to be the issue here, is the man’s lack of self-control. The best example93 for this can be found in Achilles ,who lacks self-control by letting his tainted honour and feelings guide him. Men are supposed to control their emotions, as Briseis also points out when she urges him to put his pride aside and resume the fighting: vince animos iramqua tuma, qui cetera vincis (Heroides III, 85)94. For a man who has so successfully slain his enemies, the one enemy he cannot subdue is his own pride.

The mixes of both subservience and defiance that these women offer us are magnificent. They are perfect women in all ways but one; their disruption of silence, with which they not only represent themselves as a nice case of gender transgression, but their husbands as well. Whilst they might be less autonomous and, dare we say it, emancipated than the women of the second category, their subtle chiding of their men betrays that behind their innocent façade lurk women who will not be pushed aside. It will be quite interesting to see, then, how the women of the second category transgress gender norms in their own ways.

4.2. The not so subtle combativeness of roaming helper maidens Tectoque animoque recepi!

(Heroides VI, 55)95

et vidi et perii

(Heroides 12, 33)96

Credidimus blandis, quorum tibi copia, verbis

credidimus generi nominibusque tuis

credidimus lacrimis- an et hae simulare docentur?

hae quoque habent artes, quaque iubentur, eunt?

dis quoque credimus, quo iam tot pignora nobis?

(Heroides II, 49-53)97

93 The other men have exhibited a loss of self-control in more subtle manners. Orestes, for example, seems to lack the mental strength that once enabled him to kill his own mother and her lover, whilst Protesilaus betrayed his anxiety to fight by stumbling over the threshold upon his departure. Lynceus fails to control his fear by fleeing instead of fighting. Hercules appears to have given away his self-control by subduing himself to a woman. The one hero in which we cannot really find a lack of self-control, is Odysseus. 94 “Subdue your own angry spirit, you who subdue all else.” 95 “I welcomed him under my roof and into my heart.” 96 “I saw you and I was undone.” 51

“Love is blind”. How many times have we heard these words spoken, without them really meaning anything? The women of this second category, however, know only too well the truth that lies behind these words. As the words of Hypsipyle, Medea and Phyllis indicate, they had faith in the words of a man, blinded by love. However, they would soon receive a wake-up call. Like Ariadne, who literally awakens on the shores of an abandoned island, one by one the heroines’ eyes were opened to the deceitful nature of men. We have baptised these letters “the helper-maiden stories”; apart from two exceptions (Phaedra and Sappho)98 all the stories follow a similar story pattern that in part explains why these heroines choose to leave their designated places. “Choose” is the key word here; unlike Briseis and Hermione, who, as we have seen, suffered displacement against their will, the women of this category consciously make the choice of leaving their gendered spaces. Thus, as we shall see, the urge to roam the land or seas often forms an inherent part of these women’s character; all these women share a rather unusual intrinsic autonomy and agency which forms a key component of their role as helper maiden. However, as we shall see, all these women also have in common that they temporarily allowed the man to take control, conquered by love as it were. This harmonious state never lasts for long, though; the man always ends up breaking his oath, leaving the heroine behind, who, as we would expect, does not take this abandonment lightly. Their letters, then, often form the heroine’s attempt at regaining control over her situation. For some, the written word will suffice. For others, only death, theirs or that of others, will heal the wounds of their broken hearts.

Now, who is this helper maiden that I constantly refer to? Helper maidens frequently occur in the stories of heroes (Clauss, 1997). They are princesses or queens of a land that the hero passes through or that forms the goal of his quest. The hero is in need of help; either he has washed ashore after years of wandering and is in need of a safe haven, or he needs the heroine’s help to perform a task. Upon his arrival, the maiden is smitten by his appearance. Unsurprisingly, then, she offers the hero her help, for which he in return pledges his allegiance to her and offers her recompense, often in the

97 “I had faith in your wheedling words, and you had good store of them; I had faith in your lineage, and in the names it shows; I had faith in your tears- or can these also be taught to feign; and are these also guileful, and ready to flow where bidden? I had faith, too, in the gods by whom you swore. To what end, pray, so many pledges of faith to me?”

98 Though both characters also clearly transgress their gendered spaces, their stories do not conform to the helper-maiden pattern we have established. Sappho is quite an unusual figure in the Heroides, since she is not a mythological character, but a historical person. Her letter can be considered as the embodiment of the amorous epistolary genre and thus she seems to be a figure who in some way represents Ovid himself. Although she does share some characteristics with the other heroines (being abandoned by her lover, considering suicide by throwing herself off a cliff, wandering the countryside), the pattern of her story is quite different. Her transgressive behaviour lies mainly in her amorous adventures, both homo-and heterosexual. Phaedra also nicely embodies the elegiac lover-poet; she is trying to seduce her stepson, admitting her feelings for him. Her transgression then lies in the fact that she breaks with her status as Theseus’ wife and Hippolytus’ stepmother by having unnatural feelings. In an attempt to get closer to Hippolytus, she transgresses her gendered space and goes hunting (Bolton, 2009). We have chosen not to discuss these letters any further; we believe that these letters deserve undivided attention and we do not believe we could do them justice in the current research. 52

form of marriage (Clauss, 1997). Thus, the helper maiden plays a vital part; without her, the hero would often not have succeeded at his task and would, consequently, never even have become a hero. However, the heroes’ words often appear to be empty promises, as the hero leaves the helper maiden. It is this betrayal and abandonment that forms the backdrop of our heroine’s letters; unlike the husbands of the women from the first category, there is no indication that their hero will ever return. Some women transgress their gendered space before the hero has left them, others because of it. Thus, in our discussion of these letters, we have chosen the following structure. Firstly, we have a look at the different ways in which these women transgress their space and why. Next, we connect their ability to roam with the autonomy they once had and subsequently gave away upon the arrival of the hero. Thirdly, we turn our attention to the oath the man swore and broke and how the heroines react to this, often in a way that could offer them the control they had lost.

4.2.1. Changes in sexual identity: roaming the lands or seas Let us briefly return to Bolton’s (2009) theory. As stated earlier, space in antiquity was often gendered, in that sense that women and men both had their designated spaces that represented their sexual identities. Consequently, a transgression of that space was interpreted as a change in sexual identity. In the Heroides, we can find two types of transgression of gendered space: through the land or through the sea. Let us start with transgression through the sea.

The sea, as Bolton (2009) points out, is the domain of men and represents the unrestricted sexuality that is denied to women. As Hero so nicely puts it in her letter: ire libet medias ipse mihi saepe per undas / sed solet hoc maribus tutius esse fretum (Heroides XIX, 161-2) 99 Consequently, women are not supposed to travel the waters, which would signify a change in sexual identity, from woman to man (Bolton, 2009). However, heroines have, previous to the writing of their letters, successfully travelled the seas and thus engaged in transgressive behaviour (Bolton, 2009). Both Medea and Ariadne refuse to be left behind and did not let the sea stand in their way of following their beloveds, after having betrayed their family. Thus, they are left with no other option than to leave their land behind and follow the hero over the sea. However, in both cases their successful crossing of the sea has detrimental consequences; their appropriation of a male sexual identity leads to a confirming of their proper gendered space and they even end up in a more limited space than they would ever have inhabited in their homelands (Bolton, 2009). Ariadne, for instance, wakes up on a deserted island and literally has nowhere to go; she has no choice but to roam the island: Aut ego diffuses erravi sola capillis,/ qualis ab Ogygio concita Baccha deo ;/ aut mare prospiciens in saxo frigida sedi (Heroides X, 47-9)100 Paradoxically for a woman who has just appropriated a male identity by travelling the sea, that same ocean now confirms her sexual status as woman; women are not meant to travel the sea. Thus, at the beginning of the letter, she emphasises that while Theseus is now travelling the sea, she most assuredly is not: Quae legis, ex illo, Theseu, tibi litore mitto/ unde tuam

99 “Oft I am prompted myself to go through the midst of the waves, but ‘tis the wont of this strait to be safe for men.” 100 “Alone, with hair loose flying, I have either roamed about, like to a Bacchant roused by the Ogygian god, or, looking out upon the sea, I have sat all chilled upon the rock, as much a stone myself as was the stone I sat upon.” 53

sine me vela tulere ratem(Heroides X, 3-4)101. Medea, like Ariadne, left her homeland after helping Jason and actually did manage to reach her destination. She did not hesitate to travel the sea even though women are not meant to: Nec tamen extimui- quid enim post illa timerem ?-/ credere me pelago, femina iamque nocens (Heroides XII, 117-8)102. However, just like Ariadne this sexual adventure has not brought her anything but heartache; Jason is on the verge of marrying again, thus abandoning her in a strange land. Consequently, right after hearing this news, Medea retreats into her room (after being ordered to) and from that location she watches the procession in the streets. Just like Ariadne, then, Medea, who was once free to roam her native lands103, is now entrenched in her room, the proper space of a woman(Bolton, 2009). For most women, however, the sea remains off limit, since it represents unwanted sexual experience. Thus Oenone connects the bad behaviour of women with travelling by sea; Helen is a transgressive figure because she has dared to cross the sea. Hence she warns Paris. What good can come of a relationship with a woman who has travelled the sea? Medea and Ariadne would, in hindsight, probably agree with her.

For the women of the first category, water was the element that had taken away their sexual experiences, separating them from their beloved and preventing them from performing their proper tasks as wives. In a sense, they had become maidens again. For the women of the second category, however, water is what introduces and extracts the men in their lives. Still maidens at the moment of the hero’s arrival, his arrival changes their sexual identity since they end up marrying him. The sea soon lives up to its role of separator, though, as the heroes abandon the heroines by hoisting up the sales. Consequently, the women’s sexual identity is again changed, from married to single.It is this second change in their sexual identity that incites the second type of transgression of gendered spaces, namely the roaming of the land. For most of these women the transgression of their gendered space take place after the hero has abandoned them; their way of dealing with this unwilled change in sexual identity is by purposefully wandering the land, thus transgressing their proper gendered spaces. Since they cannot travel the seas, they are restricted to wandering the land they belong to. Thus, some of the heroines describe how they wander the land, watching the shores, hoping to catch a glimpse of their beloved who has just left them. Some of them come very close to the sea, almost hoping to emerge themselves in it. Phyllis, for instance, attempts the most her spatial environment (Bolton, 2009). She describes how, in her desperation, she rushes forward into the sea every time she glimpses a ship: In freta procurro, vix me retinentibus undis/mobile qua primas porrigit aequor aquas (Heroides II, 127-8)104. In an ultimate attempt to appropriate the man’s sexuality, and thus getting close to her absent lover (Bolton, 2009), Phyllis reveals how she intends to

101 “The words you now are reading, Theseus, I send you from that shore from which the sails bore off your ship without me.”

102 “And yet I did not fear- for what, after that, could I fear?- to trust myself to the sea, woman though I was, and now with guilt upon me.” 103 Back at home, she had enough freedom to meet Jason in the woods, where he promised to marry her as recompense for her help: Est nemus et piceis et frondibus ilicis atrum; / vix illuc radiis solis adire licet (Heroides XII, 67-8)- There is a grove, sombre with pine-trees and the fronds of the ilex ; into it scarce can the rays of the sun find way 104 “I rush forth to the waters, scarce halted by the waves where first the sea sends in its mobile tide.” 54

commit suicide by throwing herself off a cliff into the sea: hinc mihi suppositas inmittere corpus in undas/mens fuit; et, quoniam fallere pergis, erit (Heroides II, 133-4)105.

Others watch the sea from a safer distance, often from a higher location that offers them a good view of the sea. Thus Oenone climbs a mountain when awaiting Paris’ return: adspicit immensum moles native profundum-/ mons fuit; aequoreis illa resistit aquis./hinc ego vela tuae cognovi prima carinae,/ et mihi per fluctus impetus ire fuit (Heroides V, 61-4)106. Similarly, Ariadne also uses a mountain as observation post: Mons fuit,- apparent frutices in vertice rari;/ hinc scopulos raucis pendet adesus aquis/ adscendo-vires animas dabat- atque ita late/aequora prospectu metior alta meo (Heroides X, 25-8)107. Hypsipyle chooses a less natural landmark and climbs a tower to watch Jason’s departure: In latus omne patens turris circumspicit undas/ huc fero, et lacrimis osque sinusque madent (Heroides VI, 69-70)108.

Thus, the departure of the hero for these women incites a transgression of gender space. For other women, the transgression of their gendered space took place in the past; they do not roam the land after their hero’s departure, but did transgressive their gendered space during or before the hero’s stay. Dido, for example, went hunting with Aeneas in the forests, an activity that is usually reserved for men (Bolton, 2009). This trip into the outer world, however, led to a change in her sexual status, since this is the moment she wed Aeneas. However, when she is writing this letter, it has become apparent that Aeneas has left her and she laments ever having gone out with him109. Thus, unlike some of the other women, she does not go to the beach to see him off, but remains in her bedroom.110 Similarly, as we have already seen, Medea and Ariadne’s displacement is also something belonging to the past, also leading to a tighter restriction of their mobility afterwards.

Moreover, these women’s ability to leave their house and roam the land is often an inherent characteristic. Consequently, they seem to be both breaking and confirming their gendered space. The gendered space is broken because a woman is supposed to stay indoors, but confirmed because their transgression of the gendered space is inherent to their nature as helper maidens. Furthermore, the gendered space is also confirmed because the women are still restricted in their

105 “To throw myself hence into the waves beneath has been my mind, and, since you still pursue your faithless course, so shall it be.” 106 A mass of native rock looks down upon the unmeasured deep- a mountain it really is; it stays the billows of the sea. from here I was the first to spy and know the sails of your bark, and my heart’s impulse was to rush through the waves to you.” 107 “There was a mountain, with bushes rising here and there upon its top ; a cliff hangs over from it, gnawed into by deep-sounding waves. I climb its slope- my spirit gave me strength- and thus with prospect broad I scan the billowy deep.” 108 “There is a tower that looks from every side upon the waters round about ; thither I betake myself, my face and bosom wet with tears.” 109 Illa dies nocuit, que nos declive sub antrum/ caeruleus subitis conpulit imber aquis (Heroides VII, 93-4)- “That dreadful day was my ruin, when sudden downpour of rain from the deep-blue heaven drove us to shelter in the lofty grot.”

110 In a sense, Dido’s situation is then very similar to that of Briseis, Hermione, and Deianira, who also suffered displacement in the past. However, Dido voluntarily left her gendered space, whilst the other three woman were forced to. For this reason we have chosen to discuss Dido here, together with the other helper maidens. 55

movements; the sea remains off limit. For a figure like Oenone, the outside space is simply her natural habitat (Bolton, 2009); she is a nymph and thus the landscape she describes forms a suitable space for her to roam. From the very beginning of her letter, she emphasises this part of her identity: Pegasis Oenone, Phrygiis celeberrima silvis (Heroides V, 3)111. Quite a large part of her letter is consequently devoted to a description of the forests she used to frequent with Paris. However, it is also her natural connection to this landscape that also prevents her from following Paris over the sea. Thus, although her character as a nymph affords her more mobility than most women, it also binds her to the land. For the other women, it is their status as rulers of their land that enables them to roam freely; since it belongs to them, and not their husbands, they are free to wander it as they please. Thus Hypsipyle, for instance, has the ability to roam her lands because she its ruler; since there are no men in Lemnos, the women are obligated to work the lands themselves and thus they are more free in their movements (Bolton, 2009). Hypsipyle’s authority does not stretch as far as the sea, though and thus she cannot follow Jason. Similarly, Phyllis and Dido are also the rulers of their own land and are thus capable of going wherever they please. This autonomous character of the heroines guides us neatly into the next part.

4.2.2. The (lost) autonomy and control of ruling women As hinted at above, the women from this category are capable of transgressing their gendered spaces because of an inherent autonomy: (once) rulers of the land they roam(ed), they possess(ed) the power and authority that would enable them to fulfil the function of helper maiden. However, every single one of these women gave away their control upon falling in love with the hero; though previously single and autonomous, they were willing to give all of this up for the man they loved . Nevertheless, these heroines still confirm their superiority; unlike other women, they have willingly chosen their partners, just like they chose to help the hero with their considerable resources. By consequence, the helper maidens do not hesitate to remind the man of the power they once held and the help they have given him. Phyllis, for instance, stresses how she welcomed Demophoon as her guest after he had wandered the seas for a long time112: Quae tibi, Demophoon, longis erroribus acto/Threicios portus hospitiumque dedi/cuius opes auxere meae, cui dives egenti/ munera multa dedi, multa datura fui (Heroides II, 107-110)113. Not only did she offer him shelter, which holds no shame, but she also gave herself to him, which she now shamefully regrets: Nec moveor, quod te iuvi portuque locoque/ debuit haec meriti summa fuisse mei/ turpiter hospitium lecto cumulasse iugali/ paenitet, et lateri conseruisse latus (Heroides II, 55-8)114. Not only did the man scorn the help she had given him by leaving, but he also broke his marriage vow after taking her maidenhood. This betrayal is perhaps best summarised by Hypispyle and Dido, who respectively state: tectoque animoque recepi! (Heroides VI, 55)115 and vixque bene audito nomine regna dedi (Heroides VII, 90)116. In a sense

111 “It is the fountain nymph Oenone, well known to the Phrygian forests.” 112 Dido also stresses how she offered Aeneas refuge after he had washed ashore (lines 89-90). 113“ I am she, Demophoon, who, when you had been driven far in wanderings on the sea, threw open to you the havens of Thrace and welcomed you as guest, you, whose estate my own raised up, to whom in your need I in my plenty gave many gifts, and would have given many still.” 114 “I am stirred by no regret that I aided you with haven and abiding place- only this should have been the limit of my kindness. Shamefully to have added to my welcome of the guest the favour of the marriage bed is what I repent me of- to have pressed your side to my own.” 115 “I welcomed him under my roof and into my heart.” 56

this is what all helper maidens have done. It seems like the heroines are entirely justified in calling out the men for their treacherous behaviour.

In order to really emphasise the fact that there heroes are worth nothing, some heroines harshly remind him that he was a nobody when they first met him; they were the ones who made him into a hero, they gave him everything. In contrast to the normative behaviour for a man, the hero did not take, but he received. Oenone exemplifies this attitude, scorning Paris acerbically, denigrating him, emphasising how she, a mighty nymph, deigned him, a lowly shepherd, worthy enough to be her husband: Nondum tantus eras, cum te contenta marito/ edita de magno flumine nympha fui/qui nunc Priamides- absit reverentia vero/servas eras; servo nubere nympha tuli (Heroides V, 9-12)117. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” seems a good way of describing Oenone’s insulting words. There is no mistaken who is in charge here. Who learned him how to hunt, which is stereotypically a man’s action? If not for her, Paris never would have been a proper man. In a similar, though less acerbic manner, Hypsipyle reminds Jason of her authority as ruler of a mighty force of female warriors; if she had wanted to, she could have killed him upon his arrival: Certa fui primo- sed me mala fata trahebant-/ hospita feminea pellere castra manu/ Lemniadesque viros, nimium quoque, vincere norunt/ milite tam forti terra tuenda fuit (Heroides VI, 51-4)118. I cannot help but feel that a threat lurks in those words… Medea, in a similar manner to Oenone, reminds Jason that she, the mighty queen of Colchis, thought fit to devote some of her precious time to helping him: At tibi colchorum, memini, regina vacavi,/ ars mea cum peteres ut tibi ferret opem (Heroides XII, 1-2)119. If he held any illusions as to his position, Medea has definitely shattered them.

Apart from turning the man into a hero, the heroines often helped him at great personal risk as well. Phyllis, for example, describes how she is now despised by her countrymen for preferring to marry a stranger: At mea despecti fugiunt conubia Thraces/ quod ferar externum praeposuisse meis (Heroides II, 81-2)120. Dido finds herself in a similar situation; having already withstood several threats of war, she also had to keep several suitors at bay (lines 123-4). These suitors will not have received her marriage to a stranger very well and thus the threat of a new war now looms. Both Ariadne and Medea took the ultimate risk, betraying their families by helping their heroes. They are the only women who did not merely receive men in their homes, but who proved vital in preserving the heroes’ life as well. Ariadne emphasises this in the following lines: Cum tibi, ne victor tecto morerere recurve,/ quae regerent passus, pro duce fila dedi,/ tum mihi dicebas: “per ego ipsa pericula iuro,/ te

116 “Scarce knowing your name, I gave to you my throne.” 117 “Not yet so great were you when I was content to wed you- I, the nymph-daughter of a mighty stream. You who are now a son of Priam- let not respect keep back the truth- were then a slave; I deigned to wed a slave, I, a nymph.” 118 “I was resolved at first- but my ill fate drew me on- to drive out with my women’s band the stranger troop ; the women of Lemnos know- yea, even too well- how to vanquish men. I should have let a soldiery so brave defend my land.” 119 “And yet, for you, I remember, I the queen of Colchis, could find time, when you besought that my art might bring you help.” 120 “But me, whom is scorned, the Thracians will not now wed, for rumour declares I set a stranger before my countrymen.” 57

fore, dum nostrum vivet uterque, meam”(Heroides X, 71-4)121. Medea also emphasises everything she gave up for Jason: Deseror amissis regno patriaque domoque/ coniuge, qui nobis omnia solus erat !/ serpentis igitur potui taurosque furentes ;: unum non potui perdomuisse virum (Heroides XII, 161-4)122

These harsh reminders of who is really in control do not erase the fact that each heroine at one moment ceded her control, turned mute by the deceiving words of the man. Phyllis greatly emphasises the faith she had in his words by the repetition of the verb credere (“believe”): Credidimus blandis, quorum tibi copia, verbis/ credidimus generi nominibusque tuis/ credidimus lacrimis- an et hae simulare docentur?/ hae quoque habent artes, quaque iubentur, eunt?/ dis quoque credimus, quo iam tot pignora nobis? (Heroides II, 49-53)123. Deceiving people in general is already considered poor behaviour, but the deception of a maid, who loved him to boot, is not worth of glory: Fallere credentem non est operose puellam/ gloria, simplicitas digna favore fuit/ sum decepta tuis et amans et femina verbis (Heroides II, 63-5)124. Phyllis’ words, being the first deceived helper maiden we encounter, are echoed throughout the Heroides by other women who share her lot. Medea, for example, refers to how words can easily ensnare a maiden: Haec animum- et quota pars haec sunt!- movere puellae/simplicis, et dextrae dextera iuncta meae […]sic cito sum verbis capta puella tuis (Heroides XII, 89-90; 92)125

Thus, the betrayal of the man is made even worse; not only did the woman raise the man, turning him into a hero, they often took great risks doing so and saved his life to boot. By consequence, the man’s breaking of the oath is made even more despicable. Let us now have a look at those deceitful words of the hero.

121 “When, to keep you, after your victory, from death in the winding halls, I gave into your hand the thread to direct your steps in place of guide, then you said to be: “By these very perils of mine, I swear that, so long as both of shall live, thou shalt be mine!” 122 “I am abandoned, I have lost my throne, my native soil, my home, my husband- who alone for me took the place of all ! Dragons and maddened bulls, it seems, I could subdue; a man alone I could not.”

123 “I had faith in your wheedling words, and you had good store of them ; I had faith in your lineage, and in the names it shows; I had faith in your tears- or can these also be taught to feign; and are these also guileful, and ready to flow where bidden? I had faith, too, in the gods by whom you swore. To what end, pray, so many pledges of faith to me?”

124 “To beguile a trustful maid is glory but cheaply earned, my simple faith was worthy of regard. I was deceived by your words- I, who loved and was a woman.” 125 “Words like these- and how slight a part of them is here !-and your right hand clasped with mine, moved the heart of the simple maid. […].Thus quickly I was ensnared, girl that I was, by your words. “ 58

4.2.3. A bunch of empty words: the hero’s broken oath Befitting their status as powerful women, the heroines manage to extract a promise of marriage126 as recompense for their help and for one fleeting moment it seems they have managed to control the heroes. This harmony is short-lived, however, as the man soon plots to leave her again. It is almost as if these men are too mobile, restless even. Having only just reached a safe haven, they immediately feel the urge to leave it again. Dido nicely phrases this idea, by pointing out Aeneas’ restlessness: facta fugis, facienda petis; quaerenda per orbem/altera, quaesita est altera terra tibi (Heroides VII, 13-4)127. She simply does not understand why he would leave his safe space behind in the pursuit of a land, whereabouts unknown. In similar fashion Hypsipyle describes Jason’s mobility in more metaphorical terms; his mobility as a man is connected to the changeability of his promises: Mobilis Aesonide vernaque incertior aura/ cur tua polliciti pondere verba carent? (Heroides VI, 109-110)128

The reasons for the men’s departure vary. Some of them depart in pursuit of adventure, like Demophoon129. Others leave in the pursuit of “the other woman”, who is either imaginary or prominently features in the story. In those cases where the heroine merely imagines the existence of another woman, the emphasis lies on defaming the man, tainting his reputation and his name. Thus Phyllis imagines that her words are of no avail, since he has probably already found another wife: Quid precor infelix? Te iam tenet altera coniunx/ forsitan et, nobis qui male favit, amor/iamque tibi excidimus, nullam, puto, Phyllida nostri (Heroides II, 103-5)130. Similarly Dido can imagine that it will not take Aeneas long to find another wife, who will help him in the same way as she did: Scilicet alter amor tibi restat et altera Dido/ quamque iterum fallas altera danda fides (Heroides VII, 17-8)131. The warning is clear: this other woman should beware of his promises, since he has already once broken his pledge. Thus Dido perceives a continuity in Aeneas’ treacherous behaviour; before her, he already left his first wife, Creusa, and after her he will continue to do the same. She concludes this train of thought with the following words: Omnia mentiris, neque enim tua fallere lingua/incipit a nobis, primaque plector ego (Heroides VII,81-2)132.

When the other woman forms an important part of the story, however, the heroine focuses on defaming this seductress. Oenone, for example, does not shy away from painting a negative picture of Paris’ new marriage; does he imagine for one second that a woman who left her husband without a second thought would not do the same to him?: nec tibi, si sapias, fidam promitte Lacaenam/ quae

126 Ariadne actually describes it as if she ordered Theseus to swear his oath: Dextera crudelis, quae me fratremque necavit,/ et data poscenti, nomen inane, fides ! (Heroides X, 115-6)- “Cruel the right hand that has brought me and my brother to our death, and cruel the pledge- an empty word- that you gave at my demand.” 127 “What is achieved, you turn your back upon; what is to be achieved, you ever pursue. One land has been sought and gained, and ever must another be sought, through the wide world.” 128 “O changeable son of Aeson, more uncertain than the breezes of springtime, why lack your words the weight a promise claims?” 129 Theseus’ motives remain a mystery; has he simply forgotten Ariadne or has he left her there on purpose? He was returning home, though, so in his case it seems that he left her in the pursuit of home. 130 “Why entreat, unhappy that I am ? it may be you are already won by another bride, and feel for her the love that favoured me but ill ; and now you have forgotten me, and , I imagine, do not remember my name.” 131 “I suppose a second love lies in store for you, and a second Dido; a second pledge to give, and a second time to prove false.” 132 “You are false in everything- and I am not the first your tongue has deceived, nor am the first to feel the blow from you.” 59

sit in amplexus tam cito versa tuos (Heroides V, 99-100)133. This strategy of representing the man’s new love as an evil seductress can also be found with Hypsipyle, who curses Medea for stealing away her husband and accuses her of having bewitched Jason. Medea, the evil witch herself, views the situation in a more pragmatic manner: the only reason Jason has left her for Creusa, is because of her dowry (lines 53-4).

Thus, the man breaks the oath he swore to the maiden by abandoning her. Not just an oath of marriage, but one of loyalty as well; in exchange for the maiden’s help, the man owes her his loyalty. Consequently, it is mainly his disloyalty that the heroines find a bitter pill to swallow. Dido, for instance, emphasises how she does not hate Aeneas; she only complains of his faithlessness: non tamen Aenean, quamvis male cogitate, odi/ sed queror infidum questaque peius amo (Heroides VII, 29-30)134 Unsurprisingly, then, the heroines spend quite a number of lines reminding the man of his pledge and often emphasise the gods he swore by. Phyllis sets the tone: Iura fidesque ubi nunc, commissaque dextera dextrae/ quique erat in falso plurimus ore deus ?/ promissus socios ubi nunc Hymenaeus in annos/ qui mihi coniugii sponsor et obses erat? (Heroides II, 31-4)135. She then goes on to enumerate all the people he swore by( the sea, his grandfather, Venus, Juno) and can only hope that the gods will avenge the wrong he has caused. Hypsipyle in a similar manner wonders where her husband’s loyalty has gone: Heu! Ubi pacta fides? Ubi conubialia iura/faxque sub arsuros dignior ire rogos (Heroides VI, 41-2)136. Ariadne and Medea137 even provide us with the oaths their husbands swore word for word. Thus Theseus’ oath was the following: Cum tibi, ne victor tecto morerere recurve,/ quae regerent passus, pro duce fila dedi,/ tum mihi dicebas: “per ego ipsa pericula iuro,/ te fore, dum nostrum vivet uterque, meam”(Heroides X, 71-4)138. As she points out to him, though, both of them are still alive, yet he is not by her side.

Why does the man find it so easy to discard his promises? It is almost as if the couple has not been together long enough for a lasting bond to exist; neither the woman nor the man has had the time and, paradoxically, the space to occupy their preordained positions within the marriage. Thus, it

133 “Think not too, if you are wise, that the Laconian will be faithful, she who so quickly turned to your embrace.” 134 “Yet however ill his thought of me, I hate him not, but only complain of his faithlessness and when I have complained I do but love more madly still.” 135 “The bonds that should hold you, the faith that you swore, where are they now? And the pledge of the right hand you placed in mine, and the talk of God that was ever on your lying lips? Where now the bond of Hymen promised for years of life together- promise that was that was my warrant and surety for the wedded state.” 136 “Where is the faith that was promised me? Where the bonds of wedlock, and the marriage torch, more fit to set ablaze my funeral pile?” 137 o virgo, miserere mei, miserere meorum;/ effice me meritis tempus in omne tuum!/ quodsi forte virum non dedignare Pelasgum-/ sed mihi tam facilis unde meosque deos?-/ spiritus ante meus tenues vanescet in auras/ quam thalamo nisi tu nupta sit ulla meo!/ conscia sit Iuno sacris praefecta maritis,/ et dea marmoreal cuius in aede sumus! (Heroides XII, 81-8)- “O maiden, have pity upon me, have pity on my men;be kind to me and make me thine for ever! And if it chance thou dost not disdain a Pelasgian suitor- but how can I hope the gods will be so facile to my wish?- my spirit will vanish into thin air before another than thou shall come a bride to my chamber! My witness be Juno, ward of the rites of wedlock; and the goddess in whose marble shrine we stand!” 138 “When, to keep you, after your victory, from death in the winding halls, I gave into your hand the thread to direct your steps in place of guide, then you said to be: “By these very perils of mine, I swear that, so long as both of shall live, thou shalt be mine!” 60

seems much easier for the men to simply leave their wives behind. What seems to be lacking here is a sense of obligation on the part of the man. This seems rather strange, though, since the mere help the heroines have offered should already have evoked at least some sense of obligation. Perhaps an explanation can be found in the autonomous nature of the heroines; nothing the men have is truly their own, but is a gift bestowed upon them by the helper maiden. Thus, the man experiences a need to find something that he could truly call his own. Consequently, this might explain why none of the men here seem to have any intention of returning.

4.2.4. Women rule the world: taking back control In this last paragraph, we dedicate our attention to the defiant acts of the heroines of this category. Though they might once have given away control, they swiftly snatch it back as well.It is precisely the autonomy and agency of these heroines that leads to them writing these letters: after having been betrayed, the heroines are determined to take matters into their own hands again, a change that is also clear, as we have seen, in the transgression of their gendered spaces. One way of doing this, is of course by writing a letter, where they point out the treacherous and disloyal behaviour of the man, chide him for it, and seek to ruin his reputation by exposing him for the liar that he is. After their reputation has been ruined, it only seems fair to repay the favour. What better way, then, to end our discussion of the Heroides with these acts of agency and transgression?

At the beginning of her letter, Phyllis immediately legitimates why she writes her letter; they are well past the date of Demophoon’s promised return and thus Phyllis decides she has had enough: Tempora si numeres- bene quae numeramus lamantes-/ non venit ante suam nostra querela diem (Heroides II, 7-8)139. Thus, with this act of agency she begins to regain control over her own life. Oenone takes a different route, that of sheer anger, and thus she really focusses on denigrating Paris; she talks to him as if he were a child that has misbehaved and needs to be punished, making it very clear that to her, he is still the lowly shepherd he used to be; she is not impressed by his new-found wealth. We cannot help but cheering her on a bit when she is mercilessly shattering any illusion Paris might have as to having a superior position and. Let us have a look at some of her words.

perlegis? An coniunx prohibit nova?

Perlege- non est ista Mycenaea littera facta manu

Pegasis Oenone, Phrygiis celeberrima silvis

laesa queror de te, si sinis ipse, meo.

(Heroides V, 1-4)140

Phew. Oenone wastes no time in telling him who is in charge here. Her fierce command to read her letter and her mockery because he might not read it because Helen forbids it are nicely topped off

139 “Should you count the days- which we count well who love- you will find my plaint come not before its time.” 140 “Will you read my letter through? Or does your new wife forbid? Read- this is no letter writ by Mycenaean hand! It is the fountain-nymph Oenone, well-known to the Phrygian forests- wronged, and with complaint to make of you, my own, if you yourself allow.” 61

with a reminder that he is, in fact, hers. The addition of si sinis ipse drips with irony; whether he allows it or not, she will speak her mind. And this is only the beginning of her letter! Chiding him like a schoolboy who has misbehaved, she tells him he should be ashamed of himself: turpe rudimentum, patriae praeponere raptam/causa pudenda tua est; iusta vir arma movet (Heroides V, 97-8)141. She definitely does not blame Menelaus for launching his fleet to come and reclaim Helen. Hypsipyle chides Jason in a more subtle manner. Though their children might greatly resemble Jason in his looks, they have not inherited his deceitful nature: Fallere non norunt; cetera patris habent (Heroides VI, 124)142. Hypsipyle’s insult is almost too subtle to notice, but all the more beautiful for its subtleness. These women clearly get some pleasure out of insulting and denigrating their erstwhile husbands in this manner (and we with them); Medea even explicitly says so: est alique ingrate meritum exprobrare voluptas./ hac fruor, haec de te gaudia sola feram (Heroides XII, 21-2)143

Though Oenone might get sufficient pleasure from denigrating Paris in this way, for some women, this is simply not enough. Their deaths not only constitute a final act of agency144, but also serve to end their misery and add another stain to the man’s reputation. Phyllis makes it abundantly clear that her suicide is supposed to blemish Demophoon’s reputation in the epitaph she gives herself at the end of her letter: Phyllida Demophoon leto dedit hospes amantem;/ ille necis causam praebuit, ipsa manum (Heroides II, 147-8)145. By emphasising the fact that he was both her guest and her lover, she is really harming Demophoon’s reputation. What kind of man leaves a woman who has taken him in like that? She also hopes her drowned body will wash ashore right in front of his feet, so that he will be confronted with the consequences of his lawless behaviour (lines 133-6). In an echo of Phyllis’ act, Dido as well chooses to commit suicide and also emphasises Aeneas’ role in her death in her epitaph: praebuit Aeneas et causam mortis et ensem;/ ipsa sua Dido concidit usa manu (Heroides VII, 195-6)146. Her intention is also clearly to defame Aeneas; she does not wish him to die, since it will be a bigger punishment for him to bear the guilt of her death: vive, precor! Sic te melius quam funere perdam./ tu potius leti causa ferere mei (Heroides VII ,63-4)147. To make matters even worse, Aeneas has left her pregnant as well; now he will be guilty of both hers and the child’s death. Finally, Medea decides to not kill herself, but Jason’s children and new wife instead. With this act, she aims at erasing Jason, not by tainting his reputation, but by taking away his legacy.

141 “It is but a base beginning to prize a stolen mistress more than your native land; your case is one that calls for shame; just are the arms her lord takes up.”

142 “The ways of deceit they know not ; for the rest, they are like their father.” 143 “‘Tis some pleasure to reproach the ungrateful with favours done. That pleasure I will enjoy; that is the only delight I shall win from you.” 144 Those women that commit suicide really emphasise that it was their own choice to do so, stressing they died by their own hand. Phyllis stresses that she has chosen her own death (in necis electu parva future mora est- “in the choosing of my death there shall be but small delay”, Heroides II, line 144). 145 Demophoon ‘twas sent Phyllis to her doom; her guest was he, she loved him well. He was the cause that brought her death to pass; her own the hand by which she fell; 146 “From Aeneas came the cause of her death, and from him the blade; from the hand of Dido herself came the stroke by which she fell.” 147 “O live, I pray it! Thus shall I see you worse undone than by death. You shall rather be reputed the cause of my own doom.” 62

In a way, Medea’s erasing of Jason’s legacy seems to represent the goal of the other helper maidens as well. Through the written word, they erase the hero’s side of the story, replacing it with their own. Theirs is a story of transgression, both their own and that of the hero; theirs a transgression of gendered space, his of the oath he swore.

Conclusion I started this text, x-many pages ago, with two passages from present-day literature, spoken by two characters that also featured in Ovid’s Heroides. Margaret Atwood and Pat Barker seemed to believe that these heroines had, after all those centuries, still not received sufficient opportunity to tell their own stories. For too long, silence has characterised the experiences of women. And yet, some two thousand years ago, a Roman poet named Ovid already inspired a breaking of the silence, his Heroides the predecessor of the novels by Atwood and Barker. It appears that Penelope and Briseis already had quite the stories to tell in Ovid’s time as well. This research, then, has been devoted to letting those voices be heard. As the example of the Heroides shows, a mere (temporary) absence of the patriarchal system, represented by the hero, is needed to give women the space to let their voices be heard. The same has been true for thousands of years. Let us only hope that women will never allow the silence to drown them. Let us hope that women, just like the heroines of the Heroides, will always find ways of breaking the silence. Let us hope that our voices will ring loudly in the ears of men for centuries to come, withstanding the ravages of time like the Heroides has done.

Let us have one final look, then, at how these heroines engaged in their own version of transgressive behaviour. We began our journey by outlining the approach we would be using in this research, namely the feminist classicist method. After pointing out the difficulties in defining feminism and feminist research, we subsequently turned our attention to the even more challenging task of combining this approach with the study of the classics. Next, we turned our attention to what would make this research a feminist one, namely the use of the category gender through the concept of gender transgression. After having delineated the meaning of both gender and transgression, we came to our definition of the concept “gender transgression”, which we defined as a confirming and breaking of gender norms, i.e. norms that structure the social relations between man and woman and thus create power structures. We concluded this first part by proving how gender transgression is not only applicable to a present-day context, but to that of antiquity as well. Thus gender transgression proved to be the concept that would ultimately combine feminism and classicism and that would constitute our feminist classicist approach.

In the second part we turned to applying this concept to the Heroides. The Heroides, as we hope to have shown, forms the perfect subject for a feminist classicist research. It seems that a marriage between feminism and classicism, no matter how contradictory it might seem, is definitely feasible. The marriage may not be perfect (but can any marriage ever be claimed to be?), but it is strong enough to overcome its limitations. Just like feminism itself, the female characters of the Heroides seem to ultimately refuse being put into boxes by men, escaping the definitions traditional literature has given them, struggling against the limits these representations have set them. Each heroine did this in her own unique way, some by subtly rebuking the man, others by, rather less subtly, insulting them. Whatever strategy they chose, they had me squeaking in delight. It is quite unusual to find such empowerment from reading a classical text, but find it I did. Even after all those centuries, these heroines still speak to me, appealing to my emotions. And that, in my opinion, is the true beauty of this text.

I can only truly end this text the way I began it, with the immortal words of Catullus. Though I doubt I will ever write something that will survive as long as his poems, I cannot help but share some of his hopes when he ended his first poem with the following words.

Quare habe tibi quicquid hoc libelli,

Qualecumque; quod, o patrona virgo,

Plus uno maneat perenne saeclo

(Catullus, Carmen I, 8-10)148

148 “So take and keep for your own this little book, such as it is, and whatever it is worth; and may it, O Virgin, my patroness, live and last for more than one century.” 65

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Appendix

Summary of the Heroides

Penelope- Ulysses Penelope writes this letter to her husband Odysseus, who has been away for twenty years, first fighting for ten years in the Trojan War, then roaming the seas for another ten on his way home. Her letter is written right before Odysseus himself arrives home, when Penelope fears she will no longer be able to keep the suitors at bay who have for years been trying to convince her to marry them.

Phyllis- Demophoon Phyllis, daughter of a Thracian king, married Demophoon, son of Theseus, king of Athens, when he stopped in Thrace on his journey home after fighting in the Trojan War. Demophoon had to return home to his father, leaving Phyllis behind with the promise of returning swiftly. Phyllis writes this letter after Demophoon did not return on the promised date, accusing him of having abandoned her. Realising he will not return, she announces her suicide at the end of the letter.

Briseis –Achilles Briseis was captured as a spoil of war by Achilles during the Trojan War, thus becoming his slave. After slighting Agamemnon, the commander of the Greek forces, Agamemnon decides to take away Achilles’ spoil; Achilles responds by refusing to fight until his prize is returned to him. Briseis writes her letter after this quarrel has broken out, trying to convince Achilles to resume the fighting and to take her back as his slave.

Phaedra- Hippolytus Phaedra, wife of Theseus, the king of Athens, has fallen in love with her stepson, Hippolytus and sends him this letter in order to confess her feelings.

Oenone- Paris Oenone was Paris’s first wife, a nymph whom he married before finding out his true identity as Prince of Troy. He left her after Aphrodite has promised him the most beautiful woman of all, Helen of Sparta. She writes this letter right after she has spotted his return to Troy, with his new mistress at his side.

Hypsipyle- Jason Hypsipyle, queen of Lemnos, a country consisting of only women, was the first wife of Jason, one of the Argonauts who would later capture the Golden Fleece. When Jason comes back from his quest for the Golden Fleece, he has married Medea, the princess of Colchis. Hypsipyle writes this letter after finding out he has thus betrayed her.

Dido- Aeneas Dido, the queen of Carthage, helped the Trojan Aeneas, who would found the kingdom that was later to be known as Rome, after he had been travelling the seas for years. She falls in love with him, but

Aeneas has to fulfil his sacred mission of founding Rome and leaves her behind. This letter is her swan song, written minutes before she commits suicide, unable to bear the pain of his betrayal.

Hermione- Orestes Hermione, daughter of Helen, was married to Orestes, her cousin and son of Agamemnon. Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, stole her away and her letter beseeches Orestes to come and save her from this forced marriage.

Deianira- Hercules Deianira was married to Hercules, the hero of all heroes. She writes this letter upon hearing that Hercules has conquered Oechalia and has taken Iole, the daughter of its king. Deianira fears that Hercules might be intending to replace her with Iole, and so she uses the blood of the centaur Nessus, who had previously tried to rape her and was killed by Hercules, as a love potion, since Nessus had falsely informed her his blood would make Hercules fall in love with her again. The blood, however, was poisoned, and Hercules dies because of it. Deianira receives this news towards the end of her letter and plans to commit suicide.

Ariadne- Theseus Ariadne, daughter of the king of Crete Minos, helped Theseus in conquering the Minotaur. He married her and took her with him afterwards. However, on their way home, having paused to spend the night on the island Naxos, Ariadne wakes up to find that Theseus has left without her, abandoning her on the island. She writes this letter right after having thus woken up.

Canace- Macareus Canace, daughter of Aeolus, the god of the winds, had an incestuous affair with her brother, Macareus. After having given birth to their child, her father discovers their affair and locks her up in her room, ordering the baby to be left among the wild beasts and sending his daughter a sword with which she is to commit suicide. Canace writes her letter, just like Dido, in her last farewell to Macareus.

Medea- Jason Medea, princess of Colchis, helped Jason to obtain the Golden Fleece by betraying her father and killing her brother and he married her as recompense. They seek refuge in Corinth, where Medea bears Jason two children. Jason, however, betrays Medea as well by marrying the daughter of the king, Creusa, thus abandoning Medea. She writes her letter right after finding this out, and right before she will commit her final deed, namely killing both Creusa, her father, and her own children.

Laodamia- Protesilaus Laodamia has only recently married Protesilaus when he has to leave to fight in the Trojan War. She writes this letter in order to urge him not to take unnecessary risks when fighting in the war.

Hypermestra- Lynceus Hypermestra was one of the fifty daughters of Danaus, who were ordered to marry their cousins, the fifty sons of Aegyptus. Danaus was unhappy with this arrangement, however, and ordered his daughters to kill their husbands on their wedding nights. Hypermestra was the only one who did not

obey her father, though. She writes this letter after her father found out her betrayal; she is locked up in prison, awaiting her death and sends this letter as a call for help.

Sappho- Phaon Sappho, the famous poetess from Lesbos, write this letter after her lover, Phaon, has left her.