Latin Verse Satire
Page 53
orem …; or the highly metaphoric treatment at Apul. M. 2.7.
Finally, the fear of female genitalia per se, along with the use of them as pejorative sign, falls into alignment with the social function of Roman invective against women.32 As invective demonstrates the intrinsic vileness of the female, as it bars certain women from sexual acceptability, so it shows publicly what the correct place of women is. The rare attacks on lesbians predictably focus on a woman’s pre-emption of a male role in intercourse.33 The stereotypes, both attractive and unattractive, present women with a finite and predetermined set of options: the attractive stereotypes, along with those in moralistic literature, give women a set of aspirations (though satire makes it clear that men expect even attractive women to be seriously flawed – frivolous and over-sexed – and so these flaws are incorporated into the stereotype “attractive”); the repulsive stereotypes give women a set of boundaries, warning them that certain types of women can expect only mockery and revulsion for manifestations of sexuality, even for existence. Women exposed to invective must acknowledge that the acceptable married woman produces legitimate children and limits her sexual activity to her young married life; public performance of invective, from graffiti to formal verse satire, serves as a societal endorsement by the whole audience of the norms outlined therein. Hence the use of bizarre animals in invective against women; inappropriate behavior removes women from humanity.34 Such an extreme sanction would seem to be needed by a society that married off most women, at an extremely young age, and demanded marital fidelity of them, while men married later and usually had access to prostitutes and slaves of either sex.35
More specifically, invective against women (today quite similar to the Roman) demonstrates the place of women with respect to literature; the female is subject matter, the narrative voice is male. A woman who wishes to write satire can only malign herself and her kind, since satire by nature and tradition consists partly in the maligning of women; and so we have the come-dienne – the dumb blonde, the strident shrew, the fat woman, and the hag. If the women’s movement has abandoned this sense of humor, no wonder.
Lehigh University
Notes
1 For example, on male “pathic” homesexuals, Gilbert Highet, Juvenal the Satirist (New York 1961) 59–64, 117–127; on women, Ulrich Knoche, Roman Satire, tr. Edwin S. Ramage (Bloomington, Indiana 1975) 148; R. P. Bond, “Anti-feminism in Juvenal and Cato,” in Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History (I), ed. Carl Deroux (Brussels 1979) 418–447.
2 Sources collected by Victor Grassmann, Die erotischen Epoden des Horaz (Munich 1966) = Zetemata 39, 12–22, 23–34; Vinzenz Buchheit, Studien zum Corpus Priapeorum (Munich 1962) = Zetemata 28, 88–89.
3 Some parallels collected by Ilona Opelt, Die lateinischen Schimpfwörter und verwandte sprachliche Erscheinungen (Heidelberg 1965) 26–28; cf. also Amy Richlin, Sexual Terms and Themes in Roman Satire and Related Genres (diss. Yale 1978) 206–216. 229–232, 233–246, 255–268; and J. N. Adams, The Latin Sexual Vocabulary (Baltimore 1982) 80–109.
4 This technique is now being well applied in anthropology, usually for material in oral circulation; most helpful for the study of Rome is the work of Gary H. Gossen on the Chamulas of southern Mexico, who share many cultural characteristics with the Romans. Especially pertinent here: Chamulas in the World of the Sun (Cambridge, Mass. 1974) 97–109; “Verbal Dueling in Chamula,” in Speech Play, ed. Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett (Philadelphia 1976). For an examination of the social significance of the denigration of the female body, the best source remains Philip E. Slater, The Glory of Hera (Boston 1968) 23–99, 410–439; many of the marital patterns described by Slater apply to the Romans as well, cf. Keith Hopkins, “The Age of Roman Girls at Marriage,” Population Studies 18 (1964–5) 309–327. See also Elizabeth V. Spelman, “Woman as Body: Ancient and Contemporary Views,” Feminist Studies 8 (1982) 109–131.
5 Viz. the discussions of the status of women in erotic poetry: e.g., Saara Lilja, The Roman Elegists’ Attitude to Women (Helsinki 1965) 35–42; Gordon Williams, Tradition and Originality in Roman Poetry (Oxford 1968) 526–542.
6 Lucilius 680 Marx, 781 Marx; Catullus 11, 37, 58, 59, 67, 76, 111; Hor. S. 1.2.77–108; Pr. 26; Petron. Sat. 16.2–26.6 (Quartilla), 109.2–3 (Tryphaena), 126.5–7 (Circe); Mart. 2.31, 4.12, 6.45, 7.30, 8.53; Juv. 6.100–114, 115–132, 300–334, O. 31–34, 548, 567; 10.220. This was a serious topic in moralistic poetry (e.g., Hor. C. 3.6.21–32); the strongest form of this theme holds that even the chastest of women is promiscuous at heart, the best example being the tale of the Widow of Ephesus (Petron. Sat. 110.6–112.8).
7 Juvenal 6.300–351, 425–433; Mart. 12.65.
8 Esp. in comedy, as for instance the jealous wife in Plautus’ Menaechmi; cf. Habinnas’ wife (Petron. Sat. 67) and the hypocritically jealous wife at Juv. 6.279.
9 Cat. 110; Hor. S. 1.2.47–53, 2.5.70–72; Mart. 3.54, 9.2, 9.32, 10.29. 11.50; Juv. 4.20–21, 7.74–75.
10 Esp. the elder Cato in Gellius, Noctes Atticae 10.23.4; also Dion. Hal. 2.25.6, Val. Max. 6.3.9, Pliny HN 14.89–90; some discussion in Sarah B. Pomeroy, Goddesses, Whores, Wives, and Slaves (New York 1975) 153–154.
11 See Alan Watson, Rome of the XII Tables (Princeton 1975) 31–38, for discussion (not conclusive) 1; Sarah B. Pomeroy, “The Relationship of the Married Woman to Her Blood Relatives in Rome,” Anc Soc 7 (1976) 215–27.
12 Pr. 32, 46; Mart. 11.97; cf. Mart. 11.23 (rejection of would-be wife and description of the indignities she must suffer if the poet should take her).
13 Lucilius 282–283 Marx, 1065–1066 Marx, and ?302, 766–767 on drunkenness; Ovid Am. 1.8.3–4, 114 (drunkenness); Hor. Epod. 8, 12; Pr. 12, 57; Virgilian Appendix “Quid Hoc Novi Est?” Oxford 151–153; Mart. 1.19, 2.33, 3.32, 3.93, 4.20, 7.75, 8.79, 9.29, 9.37, 10.39, 10.67, 10.90, 11.21, 11.29, and cf. 3.72.
14 Cf. also Pr. 12; Mart. 3.32, 3.93, 9.29, 10.39; “Quid Hoc Novi Est?” 26.
15 For the use of animal invective in rhetoric, cf. R. G. M. Nisbet, M. Tulli Ciceronis in L. Calpurnium Pisonem Oratio (Oxford 1961) 195.
16 A few graphic animal comparisons used of men in Catullus: 25.1–4, 69.5–10, 97.5–8.
17 Pliny HN 7.153; e.g., Pr. 57.1, Mart. 10.67.5.
18 Cf. Pr. 32. 46; Mart. 3.53, 3.93, 9.37.
19 Mutilation by cutting off ears and nose is cited as a punishment for adulterers (Mart. 2.83, 3.85; Vergil A. 6.494–497) and in other circumstances where the shaming of the victim was a desideratum (Tac. Ann. 12.14).
20 The most important general study here is Karen Horney. “The Dread of Woman,” IntJPsych 13 (1932) 348–360; I see now Carol R. Ember, “Men’s Fear of Sex with Women: A Cross-Culture Study,” Sex Roles 4 (1978) 657–78. On the general significance for Greek culture of fear and disgust for the female genitalia, see Slater, op. cit. 12–23; he outlines the association of pubic hair with overpowering sexuality in women, although his conclusions are disputed by Martin Kilmer, “Genital Phobia and Depilation,” JHS 72 (1982) 104–12. Cf. Martial’s comments on depilation, and the Priapic allusion to worms in the vagina, 46.10.
21 The closest example is perhaps the Pompeiian graffito CIL 4.1830: futuitur cunnus multo melius
22 Compare in general the vast store of sexual metaphor in Aristophanes collected by Jeffrey Henderson, The Maculate Muse (New Haven 1975); those for female genitalia there range from very positive to very negative, and the metaphors from holes and hollows are not particularly negative (# 150–158).
23 Cf. Mart. 3.32, 3.93, 7.75, 10.67, 10.90, 11.97.
24 Cf. “Quid Hoc Novi Est?”; Pr. 32; Mart. 11.21, 11.29.
25 Hor. Epod. 8.18–20, 12.14–15 (here the poet lets the woman prove his potency by complaining of his prowess with another woman); and esp. Mart. 9.37, where the mentula “sees” the old woman.
26 Pr. 57.8; Mart. 11.29 (cf. 7.75, 9.37).
27 Mart. 3.74, 10.90, 12.32.21–22.
28 Contra Judith P. Hallett, “The Rol
e of Women in Roman Elegy: Counter-cultural Feminism,” Arethusa 6 (1973) 103–124, with subsequent discussion in Arethusa 6, 267–269, 7 (1974) 211–219; she sees in elegy a sincere ideological counter to traditional Roman attitudes towards women. Cf. Mart. 9.37, where the poet virtually dismembers the woman by enumerating her false parts: hair, teeth, complexion, even eyebrows – then lets his mentula reject her. The parts listed are not much different from those praised by an elegist. For the technique of part-by-part praise in the Renaissance, see Nancy J. Vickers, “Diana Described: Scattered Woman and Scattered Rhyme,” Critical Inquiry 8 (1981) 265–279.
29 See Amy Richlin, The Garden of Priapus: Sexuality and Aggression in Roman Humor (New Haven 1983), chapter 2.
30 Cat. 97; the anus is laxus, Pr. 17.3; tritus, Mart. 2.51.2; and called fossa, Juv. 2.10. Cf. also Mart. 6.37. Pathic homosexuals were proverbially afflicted by anal warts or piles; the slang term was ficus “fig” or marisca “cheap fig” (Mart. 1.65, 4.52. 6.49.8–11, 7.71, 12.33; Pr. 41.4, 50.2; Juv. 2.13), and Martial once uses marisca to mean a woman’s anus as compared with the preferable anus of a boy (12.96). Luciius draws an analogy between befoulment by women and by boys: hoec inbubinat, at contra te inbulbitat
31 Hor. Epod. 8.7; Mart. 2.52, 3.53.3, 3.72.3, 3.93.5, 14.66, 14.149.
32 Cf. Horney (above, n. 20) 360.
33 Mart. 1.90, ?7.35, 7.67, 7.70. “Bassa” is the name of the woman attacked in 1.90; another Bassa (4.4) is the victim of a long invective list attacking her foul smell, including several animal similes resembling those in 11.21.
34 See Edmund Leach, “Anthropological Aspects of Language: Animal Categories and Verbal Abuse,” in New Directions in the Study of Language, ed. Eric H. Lenneberg (Cambridge, Mass. 1964) 23–63, esp. 60–61.
35 See Hopkins (above, n. 4).
THE MASKS OF SATIRE
Susanna Morton Braund
Satire as drama
To view satire as a kind of drama is perhaps the most illuminating approach available. There is some basis for this in the ancient evidence about the origins of satire. We have seen in the Introduction that there may be a link between satura and satyrs and that Livy’s account of the history of Roman drama included a stage-show called satura. […] Moreover, the satirists themselves connect their work with Greek Old Comedy. But whether or not such links are accepted, the analogy between satire and drama invites thoughts of performance. These are poems written not to be read silently but to be performed in front of an audience. The view of satire as drama reminds us that the authors of satire are using dramatic forms, primarily the monologue and the dialogue. […] This use of the forms of drama distinguishes satire from epic (whose hexameter metre it borrows), in which the predominant form is third person narrative. […] Satire, then, combines the forms of drama with the metre of epic. It is a hybrid form.
To view satire as a kind of drama, as a performance, helps us resist seeing satire as autobiography. This type of interpretation, which was prominent earlier this century, is the result of a post-Romantic view of poetry as the expression of emotions straight from the heart. The fact that satire often uses the first person presentation doubtless seemed to support such a view. It is now generally accepted that this kind of post-Romantic interpretation is inappropriate to any kind of Roman poetry, even love poetry. Roman poetry is the product of a highly educated elite and an arena in which the intellect as much as the emotions are exercised. To ask if the expressions of the passions of anger or pity or love are what we would call ‘genuine’ is not a question the Romans would have framed or even, perhaps, understood. For the Romans, the most important ideas were those of plausibility (fides) and appropriateness (decorum): how convincing a display of anger or pity or love is this? This throws the emphasis onto the quality of the performance. That is why it is helpful to see satire as a type of drama. And that is why I distinguish between the authors of satire and the ‘satirists’ they create in their poems: these dramatic characters who perform upon the satiric stage are not to be confused with the writers of satire.
Masks and satire
To see satire as a type of drama leads easily to the idea that the writers of satire use various masks or personae in their poems. Many types of theatrical performance in Greco-Roman antiquity used masks (personae) which served as an instant kind of characterisation. This was especially so where there were stock characters with stock masks. For example, in ‘New Comedy’ written in Athens by Menander and others in the fourth century BC and imitated in Rome by Plautus and Terence in the early second century BC, the irritable old father and his son, the love-lorn young man, the domineering old wife and the scheming slave are some of the stock characters. And in the native Italian form of drama called the Atellan farce stock characters included the fool and the glutton. Rather like the dramatic poets, the writers of Roman satire are creating roles, even if those roles are complex and ambiguous and, at times, shifting. And this view of the voices of Roman satire as a series of personae would not have been alien or difficult for the original Roman audiences. It seems that the Romans thought of life, perhaps more than we do, in terms of roles performed and the variety of personae adopted in differing circumstances.
A very explicit statement of this outlook is found in Cicero’s theory in On Duties (De officiis) 1 concerning the four personae available to each individual. The first persona is the universal one of the human self, of being a human as opposed to an animal; the second persona is that of the individual with particular skills and capacities, for example, strength, attractiveness, wit and shrewdness. The third persona is that which arises from circumstances, for example, high and low birth, wealth and poverty, and the fourth is the persona which consists of our individual choice of role in life. Cicero explains that this might be a decision to specialise in philosophy or law or oratory, to follow in your father’s footsteps or deliberately to take a different course. These ideas drawn from Cicero’s philosophical analysis of the individual’s place in society suggest how readily the Romans thought in terms of persona – the image presented to society. And although we do not so readily conceive of ourselves as playing out roles, we might usefully compare the function of ‘image-makers’ in affecting the popular perception of public figures such as politicians and members of the Royal family, of sporting heroes and film-stars.
The use of the mask to create an image (persona) and the emphasis upon plausibility and appropriateness and performance is by no means confined to Roman satire but is part of a much wider phenomenon. It pervaded all aspects of the public life of the Roman elite. Nowhere is this more visible than in the rhetorical education of the young Roman. This education was designed to equip the sons of the elite for life in a highly competitive socio-political milieu in which the chief means of attaining superiority was skill in public speaking. Skill in public speaking centred upon being convincing: acting out the appropriate role in the most effective way possible. For the Romans, drama and rhetoric were mutually interdependent.
Drama and rhetoric
The basic education of young Roman boys from wealthy families was in Latin and Greek language. Then, at about the age of eleven, boys went to the grammaticus, the teacher of literature, for lessons in reading and the interpretation of texts. We can get some idea of the syllabus – or at least the ideal syllabus – from Quintilian, a professor who was writing at the end of the first century AD. He laid down the texts that he thought should form the programme of studies for school-boys in his twelve-book The Training of an Orator (Institutio Oratoria), for example, 1.8.5–6:
That, then, is an excellent procedure, to begin by reading Homer and Virgil, although for the full appreciation of their merits the intellect needs to be more firmly developed: but there is plenty of time for that, because the boy will read them more than once. In the meantime let his mind rise with the sublimity of heroic poetry, take it
s inspiration from the greatness of its theme and be filled with the highest feelings. The reading of tragedy is also useful, and lyric poets nurture the mind, so long as there is a careful selection of not only the authors but also the passages from their works which are to be read. For the Greek lyric poets are often risqué and even in Horace there are passages which I should be unwilling to explain to a class.
Not exactly a Roman National Curriculum, but perhaps the nearest thing! Literature was studied not for its own sake but to develop skill in public speaking. And the most privileged boys, between the ages of fifteen and eighteen usually, proceeded to a teacher who specialised in this type of training – the teacher of rhetoric, the rhetor.
The education in rhetoric was modelled on the Greek system in which public speaking was divided into three types of oratory: judicial oratory, deliberative oratory and epideictic oratory. Judicial oratory, also called forensic oratory, consisted of speeches of prosecution and defence in cases being heard in the courts. (The word ‘forensic’ actually derives from the Roman practice of having its law-courts meet in the forum.) Deliberative oratory involved making speeches advising or urging or rejecting a proposed course of action in the Senate, for example, or any other body making such decisions. And epideictic oratory, that is ‘display’ oratory, consisted chiefly of speeches of praise (also called panegyrical and encomiastic speeches) about a god or an individual or a city or about a public building such as a temple. The opposite to panegyric is invective, where the ‘display’ speech attacks an individual or place.