CHAPTER IIGREEK

CHAPTER IIGREEK

Plato (c. 429–347 B.C.), the Greek philosopher who developed his metaphysical and cosmological theories through a series of some twenty-five dialogues and theApology, has a great deal to say on the erotic theme.

In theTimaeus, he says of sexual excess:

He who has the seed about the spinal marrow too plentiful and overflowing, like a tree overladen with fruit, has many throes, and also obtains many pleasures in his desires and their offspring, and is for the most part of his life deranged because his pleasures and pains are so very great; his soul is rendered foolish and disordered by his body; yet he is regarded not as one diseased, but as one who is voluntarily bad, which is a mistake. The truth is that sexual intemperance is a disease of the soul due chiefly to the moisture and fluidity which is produced in one of the elements by the loose consistency of the bones. And in general, all that which is termed the incontinence of pleasure and is deemed a reproach under the ideathat the wicked voluntarily do wrong is not justly a matter for reproach. For no man is voluntarily bad, but the bad become bad by reason of an ill disposition of the body and bad education—things which are hateful to every man and happen to him against his will.

Again, of sexual love, Plato says, in theTimaeus:

On the subject of animals, then, the following remarks may be offered. Of the men who came into the world, those who were cowards or led unrighteous lives may with reason be supposed to have changed into the nature of women in the second generation. And this was the reason why at that time the gods created in us the desire of sexual intercourse, contriving in man one animated substance, and in woman another, which they formed, respectively, in the following manner. The outlet for drink by which liquids pass through the lung under the kidneys and into the bladder, which receives and then by the pressure of the air emits them, was so fashioned by them as to penetrate also into the body of the marrow, which passes from the head along the neck and through the back, and which in the preceding discourse we have named the seed. And the seed, having life and becoming endowed with respiration, produces in that part in which it respires a lively desire of emission, and thus creates in us the love of procreation. Wherefore also in men the organ of generation becoming rebellious and masterful, like an animal disobedient to reason, and maddened with the sting of lust, seeks to gain absolute sway, and the same is the case with the so-called womb or matrix of women. The animal within them is desirous of procreating children, and when remaining unfruitfullong beyond its proper time, gets discontented and angry, and wandering in every direction through the body, closes up the passages of the breath, and, by obstructing respiration, drives them to extremity, causing all varieties of disease, until at length the desire and love of the man and the woman, bringing them together and as it were plucking the fruit from the tree, sow in the womb, as in a field, animals unseen by reason of their smallness and without form; these again are separated and matured within; they are then finally brought out into the light, and thus the generation of animals is completed.

In theSymposium, Plato postulates a philosophy of love:

Love is the love of beauty and not of deformity?He assented.And the admission has been already made that love is of thatwhich a man wants and has not?True, he said.Then love wants and has not beauty?Certainly, he replied.And would you call that beautiful which wants and does not possess beauty?Certainly not.Then would you still say that love is beautiful?Agathon replied: I fear that I did not understand what I was saying.Nay, Agathon, replied Socrates; but I should like toask you one more question:—is not the good also thebeautiful?Yes.Then in wanting the beautiful love wants also thegood? I can not refute you, Socrates, said Agathon.And let us suppose that what you say is true.Say rather, dear Agathon, that you can not refute thetruth; for Socrates is easily refuted.

Love is the love of beauty and not of deformity?He assented.And the admission has been already made that love is of thatwhich a man wants and has not?True, he said.Then love wants and has not beauty?Certainly, he replied.And would you call that beautiful which wants and does not possess beauty?Certainly not.Then would you still say that love is beautiful?Agathon replied: I fear that I did not understand what I was saying.Nay, Agathon, replied Socrates; but I should like toask you one more question:—is not the good also thebeautiful?Yes.Then in wanting the beautiful love wants also thegood? I can not refute you, Socrates, said Agathon.And let us suppose that what you say is true.Say rather, dear Agathon, that you can not refute thetruth; for Socrates is easily refuted.

Love is the love of beauty and not of deformity?He assented.And the admission has been already made that love is of thatwhich a man wants and has not?True, he said.Then love wants and has not beauty?Certainly, he replied.And would you call that beautiful which wants and does not possess beauty?Certainly not.Then would you still say that love is beautiful?Agathon replied: I fear that I did not understand what I was saying.Nay, Agathon, replied Socrates; but I should like toask you one more question:—is not the good also thebeautiful?Yes.Then in wanting the beautiful love wants also thegood? I can not refute you, Socrates, said Agathon.And let us suppose that what you say is true.Say rather, dear Agathon, that you can not refute thetruth; for Socrates is easily refuted.

Love is the love of beauty and not of deformity?

He assented.

And the admission has been already made that love is of that

which a man wants and has not?

True, he said.

Then love wants and has not beauty?

Certainly, he replied.

And would you call that beautiful which wants and does not possess beauty?

Certainly not.

Then would you still say that love is beautiful?

Agathon replied: I fear that I did not understand what I was saying.

Nay, Agathon, replied Socrates; but I should like to

ask you one more question:—is not the good also the

beautiful?

Yes.

Then in wanting the beautiful love wants also the

good? I can not refute you, Socrates, said Agathon.

And let us suppose that what you say is true.

Say rather, dear Agathon, that you can not refute the

truth; for Socrates is easily refuted.

And now I will take my leave of you, and rehearse the tale of love which I heard once upon a time from Diotima of Mantineia, who was a wise woman in this and many other branches of knowledge. She was the same who deferred the plague of Athens ten years by a sacrifice, and was my instructress in the art of love. In the attempt which I am about to make I shall pursue Agathon’s method, and begin with his admissions, which are nearly if not quite the same which I made to the wise woman when she questioned me: this will be the easiest way, and I shall take both parts myself as well as I can. For, like Agathon, she spoke first of the being and nature of love, and then of his works. And I said to her in nearly the same words which he

“As in the former instance, he is neither mortal fair; and she proved to me as I proved to him that, in my way of speaking about him, love was neither fair nor good. “What do you mean, Diotima,” I said, “is love then evil and foul?”

“Hush,” she cried; “is that to be deemed foul which is not fair?”

“Certainly,” I said.

“And is that which is not wise, ignorant? do you not see that there is a mean between wisdom and ignorance?”

“And what is this?” I said.

“Right opinion,” she replied; “which, as you know, being incapable of giving a reason, is not knowledge (for how could knowledge be devoid of reason? nor again, ignorance, for neither can ignorance attain the truth), but is clearly something which is a mean between ignorance and wisdom.”

“Quite true,” I replied.

“Do not then insist,” she said, “that what is not fair is of necessity foul, or what is not good evil; or infer that because love is not fair and good he is therefore foul and evil; for he is in a mean between them.”

“Well,” I said, “love is surely admitted by all to be a great god.”

“By those who know or by those who don’t know?”

“By all.”

“And how, Socrates,” she said with a smile, “can love be acknowledged to be a great god by those who say that he is not a god at all?”

“And who are they?” I said.

“You and I are two of them,” she replied.

“How can that be?” I said.

“That is very intelligible,” she replied; “as you yourself would acknowledge that the gods are happy and fair—of course you would—would you dare to say that any god was not?”

“Certainly not,” I replied.

“And you mean by the happy, those who are the possessors of things good and fair?”

“Yes.”

“And you admitted that love, because he was in want, desires those good and fair things of which he is in want?”

“Yes, I admitted that.”

“But how can he be a god who has no share in the good or the fair?”

“That is not to be supposed.”

“Then you see that you also deny the deity of love.”

“What then is love?” I asked; “Is he mortal?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“As in the former instance, he is neither mortal nor immortal, but in a mean between them.”

“What is he then, Diotima?”

“He is a great spirit, and like all that is spiritual he is intermediate between the divine and the mortal.”

“And what is the nature of this spiritual power?” I said.

“This is the power,” she said, “which interprets and conveys to the gods the prayers and sacrifices of men, and to men the commands and rewards of the gods; and this power spans the chasm which divides them, and in this all is bound together, and through this the arts of the prophet and the priest, their sacrifices and mysteries and charms, and all prophecy and incantation, find their way. For God mingles not with man; and through this power all the intercourse and speech of God with man, whether awake or asleep, is carried on. The wisdom which understands this is spiritual; all other wisdom, such as that of arts or handicrafts, is mean and vulgar. Now these spirits or intermediate powers are many and divine, and one of them is love.”

“And who,” I said, “was his father and who his mother?”

“The tale,” she said, “will take time; nevertheless I will tell you. On the birthday of Aphrodite there was a feast of the gods, at which the god Poros or Plenty, who is the son of Metis or Discretion, was one of the guests. When the feast was over, Penia or Poverty, as the manner was, came about the doors to beg. Now Plenty, who was the worse for nectar (there was no wine in those days), came into the garden of Zeus and fell into a heavy sleep; and Poverty considering her own straitened circumstances, plotted to have him for a husband, and accordingly she laydown at his side and conceived love, who partly because he is naturally a lover of the beautiful, and because Aphrodite is herself beautiful, and also because he was born on Aphrodite’s birthday is her follower and attendant.”

(B. Jowett)

(B. Jowett)

(B. Jowett)

(B. Jowett)

In Book 8 ofThe Laws, too, Plato discusses a variety of subjects, among them festivals and contests in which men and women meet together. This topic introduces the question of the sexes, and Plato makes definitive statements in this respect. Licentiousness, he declares, is abominable. Men ought to live under controlled moderation. That is what nature herself enjoins. Man otherwise would fall below the level of beasts. Here the laws should be restrictive. But if that is not possible, there must at least be some adherence to decent mores.

Lust and desire are discussed in Book 6 ofThe Lawsand in theGreater Hippias. The three universal appetites are food, drink, and lust of procreation, which is linked with the imperious sexual frenzy and its concomitant excitements. Sexual desire, the necessities of love, overflowing into excesses, may be harmful to the welfare of the state. Excesses must therefore be stemmed and controlled by laws. In this manner evil may be diminished and the good of the state as a whole will be promoted.

With regard to exhausted capacity and the loss of passion as a corollary to old age, Plato says, in Book I ofThe Republic:

I will tell you, Socrates, he said, what my own feeling is. Men of my age flock together; we are birds of a feather, as the old proverb says; and at our meetings the tale of my acquaintance commonly is—I can not eat, I can not drink; the pleasures of youth and loveare fled away; there was a good time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life. Some complain of the slights which are put upon them by relations, and they will tell you sadly of how many evils their old age is the cause. But to me, Socrates, these complainers seem to blame that which is not really at fault. For if old age were the cause, I too being old, and every other old man, would have felt as they do. But this is not my own experience, nor that of others whom I have known. How well I remember the aged poet Sophocles, when in answer to the question, How does love suit with age, Sophocles,—are you still the man you were? Peace, he replied; most gladly have I escaped from a mad and furious master. His words have often occurred to my mind since, and they seem as good to me now as at the time when he uttered them. For certainly old age has a great sense of calm and freedom; when the passions relax their hold, then, as Sophocles says, we are freed from the grasp not of one mad master only, but of many. The truth is, Socrates, that these regrets, and also the complaints about relations, are to be attributed to the same cause, which is not old age, but men’s characters and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite disposition youth and age are equally a burden.

Of sexual appetite Plato declares, in Book 8 ofThe Republic:

Are not necessary pleasures those of which we can not get rid, and of which the satisfaction is a benefit to us? And they are rightly called so, because we are framed by nature to desire both what isbeneficial and what is necessary, and can not help it.

True.

We are not wrong therefore in calling them necessary?

We are not.

And the desires of which a man may get rid, if he takes pains from his youth upwards—of which the presence, moreover, does no good, and in some cases the reverse of good—shall we not be right in saying that all these are unnecessary?

Yes, certainly.

Suppose we select an example of either kind, in order that we may have a general notion of them?

Very good.

Will not the desire of eating, that is, of simple food and condiments, in so far as they are required for health and strength, be of the necessary class?

That is what I should suppose.

The pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways; it does us good and it is essential to the continuance of life?

Yes.

But the condiments are only necessary in so far as they are good for health?

Certainly.

And the desire which goes beyond this, of more delicate food, or other luxuries, which might generally be got rid of, if controlled and trained in youth, and is hurtful to the body, and hurtful to the soul in the pursuit of wisdom and virtue, may be rightly called unnecessary?

Very true.

May we not say that these desires spend, and that the others make money because they conduce to production?

Certainly.

And of the pleasures of love, and all other pleasures, the same holds good?

True.

And the drone of whom we spoke was he who was surfeited in pleasures and desires of this sort, and was the slave of the unnecessary desires, whereas he who was subject to the necessary only was miserly and oligarchical?

Very true.

(B. Jowett)

(B. Jowett)

(B. Jowett)

(B. Jowett)

Nakedness, both of boys and girls, was not an obscenity in ancient Greece. The statesman Lycurgus, for example, established exercises in Sparta in which boys and girls, in puris naturalibus, took part.

To the Greek philosopher Plato, too, nudity involved no indecency. He actually advocated, inThe Laws, naked dances by boys and girls, for the purpose of mutual acquaintance.

Pedanius Dioscorides, who flourished in the first century A.D., was born in Anazarbus. He became an army physician: but, in addition, he was deeply interested and versed in pharmacological subjects. With the purpose of compiling a kind of encyclopedic work in this field, Dioscorides traveled widely throughout Greece, Asia Minor, and the Mediterranean countries, collecting information, legends, and prescriptions.

Dioscorides is the author of a systematic Materia Medica, written with clarity and precision and with an informative rather than a stylistic purpose. His work includes plants and herbs, animals, minerals: all arranged in exact subdivisions, and emphasizing the medicinal and pharmacologicalvirtues of all the items included. The text is arranged in five books, and covers some thousand drugs. An English translation, under the title of the Greek Herbal of Dioscorides, was produced by John Goodyer in 1655, and was edited by Robert T. Gunther and first printed by the Oxford University Press in 1934.

Apart from the fascination of the work in itself, Dioscorides lists a number of herbs and roots that are of amatory interest as philtres. Goodyer’s text, for the relevant items, follows:

Greek Cyclamen: It is sayd also that the root is taken amongst love-procuring medicines being beaten, and soe made into Trochiscks. Trochiscks are pastilles.

Brassica Rapa: Turnip: Also called Gongule. The Romans call it Rapum. The roote of it being sod is nourishing, yet very windie, and breeding moist and loose flesh, and provoking to Venerie.

(As an infusion) being dranck it is good against deadly medicines, and doth provoke to Venerie.

Kuprinon: Oil of Cuperos. An invigorating oil.

Lolium Temulentum: Darnel: Being suffumigated with polenta, or Myrrh, or Saffron, or Franckincense, it doth help conceptions.

Cardamom Lepidium Sativum: Cress: Some call it Cynocardamom. The best is found in Babylon. The seed is effectual in inciting to copulation.

Orchis Rubra: Orchis Papilionacea: And of this root it is said that if the greater roote is eaten by men, it makes them beget males, and the lesser, being eaten by women, to conceive females. It is further storied that ye women in Thessalia do give to drink with goates milk ye tenderer root to provoke Venerie, and the dry root for ye suppressing, dissolving of Venerie. And that it being drank ye one is dissolved by the other.

Satyrion: Also called Trifolium, because ‘it bears leaves inthree’s, as it were,’ bending down to ye earth like to Rumex or Lilium, yet lesser, and reddish. But a naked stalk, long, as of a cubit, a flower like a Lilly, white; a bulbous root, as bigg as an apple, redd, but within white, like an egg, to ye taster sweet and pleasant to ye mouth. This one ought to drink in black hard wine for ye Opisthotonon, and use it, if he will lie with a woman. For they say that this also doth stirr up courage in ye conjunction.

Saturion Eruthronion: Called by the RomansMorticulum Veneris. It hath a seed like to flax seed. It is said that it doth stirr up conjunctions, like ye Scincus doth. It is storied that the root being taken into ye hand doth provoke to Venerie, but much more, being drank with wine.

Salvia Horminum: The Romans call itGeminales. It is an herb like to Marrubium. In the wild it is found round swart, but in the other somewhat long, and black, of which there is use, and this also is thought being drank with wine to provoke conjunction.

Galium Verum: Gallion. But ye root doth provoke to conjunction.

Katananke: The Romans call it Herba Filicula. The roots are of two kinds. ‘But some report that both kinds are good for Philters, and they say that the Thessalian women do use them.’

Phuteuma: Also called Silene spurium. Phuteuma hath leaves like to Radicula, but smaller, much seed, bored through, little root, thin, close to the earth, which some relate to be good for a love medicine.

Nonnus was a Greek epic poet of Panopolis, in Egypt. He flourished in the fifth century A.D., and is the author ofDionysiaca. This is a long epic poem describing, in abundantdetail, with picturesque imagery, the triumphal progression of Dionysus, god of wine and fertility, to India.

The poem is packed with quaint geographical lore, with a miscellaneous mass of information on astrology and plants and other subjects intertwined into the primary theme, and it also contains many erotic incidents of a mythological nature.

The Corybantes take a prominent place in the worship of Dionysus. They are the frantic, orgiastic priests of Cybele, the Mighty Mother of the Gods, and their passionate ceremonials touch the erotic field.

The handsome, effeminate Cadmus appears—the cheeks of his love-begetting face are red as roses, chants the poet: and the sight of Cadmus is itself an amatory urge.

It is effective, too, in the case of Harmonia, destined to be Cadmus’ mate. Aphrodite addresses the prospective bride:

I will teach those grace-breathing kisses to women unhappy in love.

There was, evidently, knowledge of potions and similar excitants, for one character pleads:

Tell me what varied store of balsams can I apply in my heart to cure the wound of love.

And again:

I shrink before a woman, for she shoots bright shafts from her lovesmit countenance and pierces me with her beauty.

In the sixth century A.D., Theodora, a public courtesan whose name was a byword in Byzantium, became first themistress and then the wife of the Roman Emperor Justinian. Even as an Empress she did not abandon her profligate ways. She had experienced and invited every possible variety of erotic practice. She went out with bands of youths and spent the night in their riotous company. Her erotic frenzies drove her to public exhibitionism. Often she had appeared in the theatre in puris naturalibus. Yet her personal beauty made the Emperor her blind slave, while her lusts extended in every direction.

The Greek chronicler Procopius describes the court of the Roman Emperor Justinian and his consort Theodora. The Imperial general attached to the court was Belisarius. He had a wife, named Antonina, who was so passionate that she consummated her erotic impulses, in relation to a youth named Theodosius, in the full presence of her servants and attendant maids.

The Byzantine general Belisarius, attached to the court of the Emperor Justinian, in the sixth century A.D., was again and again the victim of his wife’s flagrant infidelities. Again and again, however, he forgave her. He permitted himself self-deception, in spite, at times, of the evidence of his own eyes. He was so deeply infatuated with her that he preferred to retain her at all costs.

The Greek orator Demosthenes, in one of his famous legal speeches, successfully pleaded for the death penalty in the case of one of the mistresses of the dramatist Sophocles. She was associated with a secret club, and was initiated in the preparation of philtres and magic potions.

Among the Greeks, the concept of love in the modern sense was rare. Nor was the medieval attitude to amatory sensibilities, embodied in courtly love, any more prevalent. Love, in a general sense, was treated as an aberration fromnormal life, a kind of sickness, a lack of balance in the elements of the entity. Yet there was, of course, as the Greek Anthology and other poetic testimony indicate, lust and passion and erotic intimacy. There was, too, a greater freedom in this relationship between men and public women, nor did this association affect in a negative sense the marriage relationship.

There were these professional public hetairae, female companions who often had marked intellectual endowments, whose association with poets and dramatists, statesmen and philosophers brought not the slightest stigma on such men in their artistic or public career. Aspasia of Miletus was one of the most outstanding of this group. She was the mistress of the statesman Pericles. Gnathaena and Lais were equally known. It was said that Plato was in love with the hetaira Archeanassa of Colophon. The comic poet Menander was associated with Glycera. Phryne, the priestess of Aphrodite, as she was termed, was the most beautiful of them all, the model for the sculptor Praxiteles’ Aphrodite.

The seductive equipment of the hetaira was as various as in modern times, and as effective. It included diaphanous robes, of Coan silk, veils and scarves, mirrors and unguents and rouge, jewelry for neck and ears and arms. And the hetaira replenished her armory and refurbished her memory of her techniques: for there were at hand, for her constant use, manuals that contained guidance, amatory and financial and social, specific instructions in a multiplicity of hypothetical but more than probable cases, and ominous warnings as well.


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