Arts, Faculty of
Classical, Near Eastern and Religious Studies, Department of
DSpace
UBCV
Gao, Dora Yuanxing
Master of Arts - MA
University of British Columbia
This thesis investigates Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of virginity as a metaphor for Greek tradition in his Leucippe and Clitophon. As one of the five surviving Greek novels from the Second Sophistic period, the text follows the adventures of two lovers who are separated and must weather various hardships across Egypt and Anatolia in order finally to reunite and marry. While previous scholarship on the novel has focused on genre, prose, and narrative elements, the present work approaches the text by centering its analysis on vulnerable populations associated with Artemis and her cult at Ephesus. Such a reading pushes our understanding of the Second Sophistic past usual studies of the philological responses of elite, educated men to upheaval. It instead focuses our attention on marginalized groups who have traditionally been excluded from the historical record and frames processes of cultural interaction and change as a negotiation of agency. In order to do so, this study first explores Achilles Tatiusâs construction of Artemis as a goddess defined primarily by her connection to and protection of virgins, as traditionally depicted throughout Greek mythology. By also portraying the goddess in the context of her worship at Ephesus, he simultaneously constructs her as a Panhellenic goddess and the deity of a large and influential cult within the Roman Empire. The next chapter then analyzes Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of virginity as a peculiarly feminine concern which both problematizes the institution of marriage and invites readers to consider alternate interpretations of the novelâs ending. Finally, this thesis discusses the Greek practice of asylum, specifically in the context of refuge at the Ephesian Artemisium, and the ways in which the authorâs emphasis on virgin asylum seekers both responds to Roman anxieties and depicts the custom in a positive light. Taken together, these three chapters demonstrate how Achilles Tatiusâs use of virginity as a metaphor for Greek heritage allows him to frame the reconciliation of Greek tradition with Roman imperium as a negotiation of agency between marginalized groups and power.
VIRGINITY AS METAPHOR: RECONCILING TRADITION AND IMPERIUM IN ACHILLES TATIUS by DORA YUANXING GAO A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES (Ancient Culture, Religion, and Ethnicity) THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver) April 2020 © Dora Yuanxing Gao, 2020 ii The following individuals certify that they have read, and recommend to the Faculty of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies for acceptance, the thesis entitled: Virginity as Metaphor: Reconciling Tradition and Imperium in Achilles Tatius submitted by Dora Gao in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in Ancient Culture, Religion, and Ethnicity Examining Committee: Dr. Katharine Huemoeller (Classical, Near Eastern, Religious Studies) Co-Supervisor Dr. Anthony Keddie (Classical, Near Eastern, Religious Studies) Co-Supervisor iii Abstract This thesis investigates Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of virginity as a metaphor for Greek tradition in his Leucippe and Clitophon. As one of the five surviving Greek novels from the Second Sophistic period, the text follows the adventures of two lovers who are separated and must weather various hardships across Egypt and Anatolia in order finally to reunite and marry. While previous scholarship on the novel has focused on genre, prose, and narrative elements, the present work approaches the text by centering its analysis on vulnerable populations associated with Artemis and her cult at Ephesus. Such a reading pushes our understanding of the Second Sophistic past usual studies of the philological responses of elite, educated men to upheaval. It instead focuses our attention on marginalized groups who have traditionally been excluded from the historical record and frames processes of cultural interaction and change as a negotiation of agency. In order to do so, this study first explores Achilles Tatiusâs construction of Artemis as a goddess defined primarily by her connection to and protection of virgins, as traditionally depicted throughout Greek mythology. By also portraying the goddess in the context of her worship at Ephesus, he simultaneously constructs her as a Panhellenic goddess and the deity of a large and influential cult within the Roman Empire. The next chapter then analyzes Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of virginity as a peculiarly feminine concern which both problematizes the institution of marriage and invites readers to consider alternate interpretations of the novelâs ending. Finally, this thesis discusses the Greek practice of asylum, specifically in the context of refuge at the Ephesian Artemisium, and the ways in which the authorâs emphasis on virgin asylum seekers both responds to Roman anxieties and depicts the custom in a positive light. Taken together, these three chapters demonstrate how Achilles iv Tatiusâs use of virginity as a metaphor for Greek heritage allows him to frame the reconciliation of Greek tradition with Roman imperium as a negotiation of agency between marginalized groups and power. v Lay Summary Achilles Tatiusâs Leucippe and Clitophon is one of five surviving Greek novels attributed to the Second Sophistic period (first to third centuries CE). The novel recounts the adventures of two lovers who are separated and must endure various hardships in order to reunite and marry. The present work provides an interpretation of the text focused on the agency of marginalized groups, which both gives new insight into traditional questions of cultural change and illuminates how the author utilizes vulnerable populations to serve his own elite male discourse. This study first reads virginity, through its connection with the goddess Artemis and her cult at the city of Ephesus, as a metaphor for Greek heritage. It then explores the ways in which the presentation of female virgins and virgin asylum seekers problematizes Roman attitudes and institutions within the novel and mirrors the process of reconciling Greek tradition with Roman rule. vi Preface This thesis is the original, unpublished, independent work by the author, Dora Y. Gao. vii Table of Contents Abstract ............................................................................................................................. iii Lay Summary .................................................................................................................... v Preface ............................................................................................................................... vi Table of Contents ............................................................................................................ vii Acknowledgements ........................................................................................................ viii I. Introduction ................................................................................................................... 1 II. Artemis: A Panhellenic Goddess of Virginity ......................................................... 15 II.1. Liminality in Myth and Worship ........................................................................... 15 II.2. Artemisâs Connection to Virginity in Leucippe and Clitophon ............................. 18 II.3. A Panhellenic Artemis Ephesia ............................................................................. 22 III. Female Virginity as Sexual Agency ........................................................................ 27 III.1. Female Sexual Status as a Metaphor for Roman Uncertainty .............................. 28 III.2. Virginity and Women in Leucippe and Clitophon ............................................... 33 III.3. Greek Traditions as Alternatives to Imperium ..................................................... 37 IV. Virgins as Asylum Seekers ....................................................................................... 42 IV.1. Asylum at Ephesus in the Roman Period ............................................................. 43 IV.2. Asylum at Ephesus in Leucippe and Clitophon ................................................... 48 IV.3. Continuing Greek Traditions under Roman Imperium ........................................ 51 V. Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 57 Bibliography .................................................................................................................... 62 viii Acknowledgments I would like to thank, first and foremost, my co-supervisors Dr. Katharine Huemoeller and Dr. Anthony Keddie. Not only have they continuously challenged me to think in more nuanced ways, their critical insight into historical questions and dedication towards social justice in their scholarship have helped me develop immensely both as an academic and a person. This thesis is truly reflective of the impact they have had upon me, and as I move forth into my doctoral work, the lessons they have taught me regarding the historical voices we choose to amplify and the structures we choose to reinforce will continue to guide my research and purpose in the academy. I would also like to express my gratitude to UBCâs Department of Classical, Near Eastern, and Religious Studies. I could not have asked for a better community of curious, passionate, and empathetic graduate students with which to learn, grow, and spend all day and night writing term papers together. Special thanks are due to Dr. Matthew McCarty, Dr. Leanne Bablitz, Dr. Siobhán McElduff, and Dr. Sara Milstein, who have made my time at UBC intellectually stimulating and the ancient world fascinating and fun. Their support as both professors and mentors have been invaluable. I would also like to thank Odessa Cadieux-Rey and Luiza Andrade, whose level-headedness and knowledge have guided me through the tangles of degree requirements and the inner workings of UBC. As my thesis is heavily focused on a Greek text, I am particularly indebted to the exceptional Greek instructors who have helped me cultivate a deep love and appreciation for the language: Dr. Kristina Chew, whose meticulous expertise pushed me to master all of beginner Greek in one summer; Dr. Jonathan Vickers, who taught me to love the Second Sophistic in spite of his personal affection for Aristophanes; and Dr. Florence Yoon, under ix whose stalwart guidance I have become stronger and more confident in Greek than I ever thought I could be. I would also like to extend my deepest gratitude to Dr. Will Broadhead, my undergraduate thesis supervisor who first taught an unwitting physics student to love the ancient Mediterranean. His unwavering faith in my ability to break into the world of Classics and Ancient History has given me strength in times when I have needed it most. Finally, none of my work would have been possible without the support and encouragement of family and friends outside of my UBC community. From my parents, who have spent their nights reading books on the Roman Empire so they can understand my research, to the friends who disrupt their daily routines to accommodate different time zones, their love has been material and immeasurable. 1 I. INTRODUCTION One of the most famous archaeological finds from Ephesus is the epigraphic dossier of a man named C. Vibius Salutaris, which was found in situ on a wall of the theater of Ephesusâs south entrance. Dated to 104 CE, the 568 lines of text were displayed across six columns that ranged in height from 2 to 4.3 meters, making up seven documents in the most widely accepted reconstruction.1 Together, these documents detail the foundation that Salutaris had bestowed upon the city. The documents indicate that Salutaris had connections to members of the Roman elite in the region, including the proconsul C. Aquillius Proculus and his legate, P. Afranius Flavianus.2 The largest portion of the text describes in great detail the euergetistic act that Salutaris had bestowed upon the city of Ephesus, which included donations of both sculptures and money. The former comprised a total of 31 portraits of deities, emperors, and civic bodies of Ephesus, and the latter took the form of yearly lotteries and distributions. Two aspects of this inscription are of particular note: first, Salutaris was advertising himself in an undeniably public manner. The placement of his text on the right flank of the theaterâs south entrance meant that any who chose to enter the building through that doorway would have engaged with the inscription, even if simply as a piece of decoration. Theater-goers 1 IEph. 1a 27. 2 Letter from Proculus: ll. 333â69; letter from Flavianus: ll. 370â413. There is some scholarly debate as to whether or not Salutaris was of Roman Italian origin. Rogers, in his work on the cult of Artemis Ephesia, has suggested that Salutarisâs father was a well-known figure in Ephesus by the time of Salutarisâs dedication in 104. Given Salutarisâs supposed family connection with the city, Rogers (1991, 16) interprets the foundation as a sign of Hellenic resistance against the encroachment of Roman imperium. Various scholars, however, have pushed back against the suggestion that Salutaris had previous family ties to Ephesus (e.g. Spawforth 1992; van Bremen 1993). Most recently Kokkinia (2019, 221â225), with whom I am inclined to agree, has used a close analysis of the lacunae in the honorary decree of Salutarisâs inscription to argue that Salutaris was a Roman knight with no prior family connections to Ephesus. 2 needed not have read the entirety of the text, or even any of it, to be reminded of Salutarisâs presence in the city.3 The effect of the inscription would have been greatly augmented by the processions of Salutarisâs statues, which scholars suggest would have taken place at least twice every month.4 Much like the inscription on the theater wall, these processions would have been largely unavoidable by residents of Ephesus going about their daily business, as modern reconstructions of the route of the processions indicate that the statues were paraded in a circular pattern through the main streets of the city.5 Second, there is a clear connection between Salutarisâs benefaction and the local cult of Artemis Ephesia. Artemisâs cult at Ephesus was one of the largest cults to the goddess in the Greco-Roman world, and its main connection with the goddess lay in Ephesusâs proximity to the grove of Ortygia, where Artemis was said to have been born. Nine of the 31 statues were of the goddess (the only repeated portrait), and the lotteries were meant to take place every year on Artemisâs birthday. It is clear that, in Salutarisâs statement regarding his position in Ephesus, the goddess and her worship through the local cult both were essential to his public image. Indeed, Salutaris appears to have enacted a clear agenda to align himself, someone who clearly benefitted from and had a vested interest in the continuation of Roman power, with depictions of Artemis and the proceedings of her cult at Ephesus. His procession of statues was physically carried by the ephebes in seven groups of three, and each triad joined a portrait of Artemis with either the manifestation of a Roman institution paired with its corresponding 3 Cooley provides an excellent overview of understanding Roman epigraphy as monuments rather than documents (2012, 220â227). In particular, she emphasizes the importance of remembering that inscriptions were primarily concerned with memorialization, and that documents âwere inscribed not in order to preserve a comprehensive record of administrative affairs, but in order to project a particular self-representation [â¦] or sometimes to try to solve a specific problemâ (222). 4 Rogers 1991, 83. 5 Kokkinia 2019, 221. 3 Greek counterpart, or a mythical founder of the city and a personification of an Ephesian tribe. One of the triads thus featured Artemis, the Roman Senate, and the council of Ephesus, while another grouped Artemis with Lysimachos and the tribe of the Teioi. In her analysis of Salutarisâs benefaction, Christina Kokkinia argues, âSalutarisâs idiosyncratic choices suggest that the order of his parade was likely prescriptive rather than descriptive: the parade was a reflection of Salutarisâs political views and wishes.â6 Within this interpretation, there is a distinct undercurrent of Greek and Roman parity, tied together by Artemis, her cult, and Salutarisâs own generosity and place among a long lineage of Ephesusâs previous founders. Salutaris, as Kokkinia suggests, âfavored, and promoted, a hybrid identity for his host city. His foundation established a ritual propagation of a Greco-Roman Ephesus, one that found supporters among the numerous Romans and Rome-friendly Greeks of Ephesus.â7 What is particularly interesting regarding this ostentatious example of benefaction is the way in which the cult of Artemis Ephesia was integral to contextualizing Salutarisâs contributions to the city and his self-positioning within Ephesian politics and society. Through his engagement with the worship of the goddess, Salutaris aligned himself with what appeared to be the core of the cityâs extant religious identity and not only negotiated his place within local city politics, but created a broader narrative that made sense of Romeâs power over Ephesus and Asia Minor. These themes of self-fashioning are not unique to Salutaris; the act of drawing upon local traditions and pre-existing modes of identification to position oneself conspicuously within a shifting political landscape under Roman rule manifested in a variety of ways across material and literary evidence. Furthermore, Artemis and the city of Ephesus in particular appear to be common symbols for these acts of deliberate identification. The 6 Ibid., 220. 7 Kokkinia 2019, 245. 4 goddess and her Ephesian cult also appear in two of the Greek novels written during this time period: Xenophon of Ephesusâs Ephesian Tale and Achilles Tatiusâs Leucippe and Clitophon. In the former, Xenophon begins and ends his narrative in Ephesus and likens the main female protagonist, Anthia, to Artemis; in the latter, Achilles Tatius sets more than three out of the eight books of his novel at Ephesus and depicts Artemis as the protectress of the main female protagonist, Leucippe, through myriad dangerous encounters. As such, I contend that a study of this particular cult as a religious nexus between a Greek heritage and Roman power may yield broader understandings of identity and acts of identification that run through both material culture and fictional narratives. Such an inquiry not only highlights the ways in which various actors reconciled past traditions and contemporary practices in new forms of identification and self-location, but also the ways in which elite, male members of society utilized marginalized members of society and female-coded symbolism within their own discourse. This thesis analyzes Achilles Tatiusâs use of the goddess Artemis and her cult worship at Ephesus to explore changing social landscapes under Roman imperium in his Leucippe and Clitophon.8 By emphasizing her protection over virgins, Achilles Tatius utilizes the concept of virginity as a metaphor within two spheres of influence associated with Artemis: sex (including the lack thereof) and refuge. I suggest that these two spheres both comprise realms in which social agency is negotiated between those with authority and those who are marginalized, and Achilles Tatiusâ depiction of virginity and virgins within these domains portrays women and asylum seekersâthat is, those who hierarchically have less agencyâin a sympathetic light. To do so, I extend Michel Foucaultâs classification of power over sex as fundamentally a âforce 8 I use the terms imperium, power, and rule interchangeably in this thesis to signify Roman hegemony and the associated institutions, customs, and practices which enable that authority. 5 of the negative,â one which âoperates according to the simple and endlessly reproduced mechanisms of law, taboo, and censorship,â to power over refuge as well.9 Access to refuge, like sexual freedom, is something that is regulated and withheld from certain groups. In both cases, those who hold authority aim to impose restrictions, either culturally or legally, upon those without authority, thereby limiting their agencies. Within the realm of heteronormative sex in the Greco-Roman world, these restraints were placed by men upon women, and the concept of a womanâs virginityâa term I define with greater precision shortlyâcan be viewed as an abstracted tool constructed to regulate the sexual agency of women at different stages of their lives, both biologically and socially.10 Prior to marriage, women were to remain abstinent, and as wives, they were expected to fulfill the sexual needs of their husbands. Similarly, within the realm of refuge, those with legal authority aim to place constraints upon the freedoms and agencies of those seeking shelter. It is power which defines who can act how, when, and where without consequence. Though power seeks to constrain agency in the realms of sex and refuge, I suggest that these are also both social locations where those subjected to power can find ways to resist authority. Through the use of birth control, sexual engagement with other women, or complete abstinence from sex altogether, for example, women are able to negotiate for social agency and reclaim, to some extent, sexual agency through means which subvert patriarchal and heteronormative expectations. Sites of asylum, in the same way, function as direct refutations 9 Foucault 1978, 84â85. 10 Due to the way that Achilles Tatius treats gender in his novel, this thesis also adopts a binary assumption of gender. It is important to note, however, that the dualistic nature of gender has been readily debunked by modern anthropologists and biologists alike and that many ancient cultures did not necessarily assume a gender binary. A more comprehensive analysis of power dynamics between genders would place male-identified or assigned-male-at-birth individuals with authority over all other gender identifications. 6 of legal power in their suspension of civil law within a bounded space. As such, both sex and asylum can be viewed as realms in which agency can be, and indeed is, consistently negotiated between those with power and those without. Before expounding my argument any further, I wish to present a working definition of the term virginity, so as to ensure that all subsequent discussion involving the term proceeds upon a clear and precise understanding of the concept. The debate regarding the significance and, indeed, existence of virgins is one not limited solely to antiquity; even today, this ongoing conversation has material ramifications for a number of gender identities across a variety of cultures and religions. This difference in modern thought is both mirrored by and contributes to the many definitions of virginity (Greek: partheneia, Latin: virginitas) among scholars of the ancient Mediterranean world. Scholars such as Goldhill suggest a âlinkage of sex and knowledgeâ that is integral to the boundary between a (female) virgin and non-virgin.11 This line of definition is evident, for example, in Hesiodâs Works and Days: â[the Boreal wind] does not blow through the soft-skinned virgin (ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸ÎµÎ½Î¹Îºá¿Ï), who stays inside the house with her beloved mother, and who does not yet know the deeds of golden Aphrodite (Î¿á½ ÏÏ á¼ÏÎ³Î± á¼°Î´Ï á¿Î± ÏÎ¿Î»Ï ÏÏÏÏÎ¿Ï á¼ÏÏÎ¿Î´Î¯ÏÎ·Ï).â12 Others, such as Bonnie MacLachlan, believe that âvirginâ was a social designation, specifically meant to denote girls who were not yet married.13 Giulia Sissa, however, argues that virginity in the ancient world held, fundamentally, a sexual connotation. âMarriage,â she writes, âis social, but also sexual. Marriage is [â¦] the condition of an acceptable, and highly valorized, sexual activity.â14 As such, a virgin was someone who likely 11 Goldhill 1995, 122. 12 καὶ διὰ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸ÎµÎ½Î¹Îºá¿Ï á¼ÏÎ±Î»ÏÏÏÎ¿Î¿Ï Î¿á½ Î´Î¹Î¬Î·ÏÎ¹Î½ / á¼¥ÏÎµ Î´ÏÎ¼ÏÎ½ á¼Î½ÏÎ¿ÏÎ¸Îµ ÏÎ¯Î»á¿ ÏÎ±Ïá½° Î¼Î·ÏÎ­ÏÎ¹ μίμνει / Î¿á½ ÏÏ á¼ÏÎ³Î± á¼°Î´Ï á¿Î± ÏÎ¿Î»Ï ÏÏÏÏÎ¿Ï á¼ÏÏÎ¿Î´Î¯ÏÎ·Ï (Hes. Op. 519â521). All translations, unless otherwise noted, are my own. 13 MacLachlan 2006, 166â68. 14 Sissa 2013, 79. 7 was not married, since marriage was the social performance of publicizing the private act of sex. The condition of virginity per se, however, was not reliant on marital status but instead, on whether a woman had previously had intercourse with a man.15 Following Sissaâs lead on an interpretation of virginity that is rooted in the experience (or lack thereof) of sexual intercourse with men, I adopt a similar working definition in this thesis of virginity as characterized specifically by a woman having never had intercourse with men. It is not my intention to disregard the social implications associated with virginity by adopting this very narrow definition; rather, as I discuss extensively in the third chapter, Leucippeâs unwavering and active avoidance of intercourse with men is one of the primary driving forces of Achilles Tatiusâs narrative. As such, I have chosen to utilize the term âvirginityâ to capture efficiently this particular narrative driver, and any uses of this term, both in my analysis of Leucippe and Clitophon and within broader historical contexts, adhere to this specific definition. I argue that Achilles Tatius, through his portrayal of Artemis and her patronage of virgins and asylum seekers, utilizes sex and refuge as extant locations of power mediation for his own exploration of the changing nature of Greek identity and tradition under Roman imperium. In doing so, he poses new questions arising from the imposition of Roman power in terms of longstanding negotiations of agency between men and women and the free and disenfranchised. In advancing this thesis, it is important for me to note that that scholars know even less about Achilles Tatius than we know about figures such as Salutaris. According to the 15 It is also important, at this juncture, to clarify my usage of the word âwoman.â Unless otherwise explicitly stated, I use the word âwomanâ in this chapter to mean any female-identifying person, both those who have and have not had intercourse with men. I use the term parthenos exclusively to denote female-identifying people who have not had intercourse with men, and the term gyne to denote female-identifying people who have had intercourse with men. 8 Suda, Achilles Tatius lived and wrote in Alexandria.16 This fact, however, says nothing about his positionality within both Alexandrian society and more broadly, the Roman Empire: we do not know whether his family had been long established in the area or recent migrants, nor do we know details regarding his financial situation nor his education (though it is clear that he was privileged enough to have been able to compose a novel). We also have little knowledge of his experience with various aspects of his novel; we do not know whether he had ever visited Ephesus or whether he was involved in any cults to Artemis. As such, we cannot draw any concrete conclusions regarding the authenticity of his descriptions, both of the city and the worship of Artemis there, nor can we make any assumptions about his relationship to Roman power and the ways in which that may have affected his writing. Despite the care with which scholars must treat any arguments made regarding this author, however, several aspects of Leucippe and Clitophon still make it a compelling and illuminating work for study. First, Achilles Tatius is believed to have composed his novel in the early second century CEâaround the same time, perhaps, Salutaris had made his foundation to the city of Ephesusâin the midst of a period of cultural upheaval that scholars have generally termed the âSecond Sophistic.â Initially coined by Philostratus to denote a category of oratory, it has been coopted by historians to describe broader cultural processes and movements during the period of the late first to early third centuries CE, when Philostratusâs sophistical oratory was prevalent. This approach, like any which relies heavily on periodization, is not without its problems.17 The âsecondâ in its name implies that this period of the late first century to early third century CE is somehow both an imitation of and also inferior to the âfirst,â or âoriginalâ 16 Zeitlin 2017, 494. 17 Johnson and Richter present an extensive and critical discussion of the issues associated with the use of periodization as well the particular benefits that come with adopting the âSecond Sophisticâ as broad terminology when applied carefully (2017, 14â19). 9 Sophistic movement during the fifth century BCE in Athens. While this sort of moralizing judgment may have been appropriate for Philostratus, comparisons of superiority/inferiority tend to be less useful for modern historical scholarship. Furthermore, the notion of a âperiodâ with a start and end date, however broad, creates false boundaries which more often than not do not exist for the emergence and decline of particular intellectual movements. Periods defined by specific occurrences work upon the misinformed assumption that the development of art and literature aligns with social, political, or militaristic events. As such, scholars must take utmost care when referring to a particular âperiodâ to ensure that they do not diminish the varied and nuanced ways in which cultural processes evolve. However, the simplified framing of a âperiodâ is also not without its benefits. As William A. Johnson and Daniel S. Richter have documented in the introduction to their edited volume, the âSecond Sophisticâ period often connotes a particular set of characteristics: a fascination with the âcollision of idealized past with present, with complex and varying results;â an exploration of âhybrid and ambivalent self-positioning [â¦] the sorts of multiple identities, with an ability to self-reinvent;â and a focus on paideia, the âcrucial differentiator between elite and nonelite.â18 As such, I choose to utilize the term âSecond Sophisticâ carefully, as do many other scholars, to reference the segment of Roman Imperial history in which these themes are particularly salient. Indeed, the prevalence of these motifs have prompted a corresponding set of questions among historians regarding the self-fashioning of Greek authors living in the Roman Empire, from the ways in which they utilize genre and prose to the thematic appropriation of ritual practices. A reading of Achilles Tatiusâs Leucippe and Clitophon with an eye towards the implications of Roman imperium upon Greek tradition and 18 Ibid., 16â19. 10 myth, as mediated through the cult of Artemis and within existing power negotiations between oppressors and the oppressed, has much to offer towards this particular body of scholarship. Leucippe and Clitophon, furthermore, is considered one of the five major Greek novels from the Second Sophistic period, along with Charitonâs Callirhoe, Xenophon of Ephesusâs Ephesian Tale, Longusâs Daphnis and Chloe, and Heliodorusâs Chariclea and Theagenes.19 These five novels display a number of similar themes: most notably, the enduring romance of a heterosexual couple through a number of trials, which culminates in their happy reunion. Leucippe and Clitophon, specifically, begins with an unnamed narrator who encounters Clitophon alone in Sidon; after some discussion, Clitphon tells the tale of his romance with Leucippe. Having first met Leucippe during her visit to his family home in Tyre, Clitophon manages to win her love after a series of attempts, and the two lovers flee when Clitophon is caught attempting to visit Leucippe in her room at night. The rest of the book details their harrowing journey: first to Egypt, where Leucippe narrowly escapes being the victim of a human sacrifice only to be struck with madness from a love potion administered to her by another admirer. An antidote is found by the stranger Chaereas, who then betrays them and attacks Leucippeâs and Clitophonâs ship as the two sail for Alexandria. Clitophon witnesses Leucippeâs decapitation at the hands of Chaereasâs men, and believing that his lover is dead, arrives in Alexandria heartbroken and despondent. There, Clitophon meets the wealthy Ephesian widow Melite, whose husband Thersander had supposedly died abroad. The two marry and make for Ephesus, though Clitophonâs grief and enduring love for Leucippeâs memory prevent him from consummating his marriage with his new wife. Having arrived in Ephesus, he meets an enslaved woman on 19 Whitmarsh outlines in his introduction to an edited volume on the Greek and Roman novel a number of characteristics and themes shared by the ancient novels (2008). 11 Meliteâs estate who later is revealed to be Leucippe, who had narrowly escaped death from Chaereasâs men when they had murdered another woman in her stead. Melite eventually realizes that the enslaved woman is Clitophonâs lover; she acquiesces to helping the two of them, but only after sleeping with Clitophon for the first and last time. Unfortunately, it is around this time that Thersander, Meliteâs former husband, returns to Ephesus and attempts to rape Leucippe (whom he claims to be his slave) and frame Clitophon for adultery and murder. The story comes to a close when Leucippe, having sought shelter at the local temple of Artemis, proves her elite status through a trial of virginity framed by various myths of the goddessâs domain over virgins and in doing so, reveals Thersander to be a liar. She is reunited with Clitophon once and for all, and the narrative ends with the two lovers marrying and sailing to Leucippeâs home in Byzantium. As demonstrated even by the brief summary of the novel above, Leucippe and Clitophon, like other novels of its genre, takes a particular interest in the theme of female sexuality. Helen Morales notes the curiosity that âsexual agency is portrayed so erratically in the novels, given that they are narratives much concerned with responsibility, with trials and tests that assume active agents.â20 A study on the ways in which this sexual agency manifests within a text that features an elaborate trial of virginity at its climax thus capitalizes upon and furthers Moralesâs observation. Indeed, Achilles Tatiusâs particular attention to the subject of virginity and his appropriation of the motif to explore changing understandings of Greek tradition reinterprets existing analyses of sexuality, agency, and marginalization in the Greek novels among broader themes pertinent to those beyond the usual elite male intellectual producing the majority of our surviving documents. For this reason, I contend that the concept 20 Morales 2008, 42. 12 of virginity and the unique oppression of young women defined solely by their sexual status presents itself as a key focus of study for both this particular novel and broader questions of marginalized agency under power. It is also through her connection to the concept of virginity that I believe Artemis, both in her literary representations and her cult worship, comprises a fascinating topic of study for those who are interested in broad questions of social and cultural transition during the Second Sophistic period. As I discuss in the following chapter, Artemisâs unique position as a virgin goddess of liminality, as well as the significance of her cults in the Greek parts of the Roman Empire, position her as a fascinating symbol of negotiation between the marginalized and the powerful, the old and the new. Not only does the study of this goddess and her worship shed new light on existing questions for scholars of the Second Sophistic, it also contributes to a shamefully small corpus of scholarship on a fascinating and multifaceted deity. Stephanie Budin, in the introduction to her book, suggests that Artemisâs comparative silence in literary sources (in contrast to other goddesses, such as Athena, or her brother, Apollo) belies the importance of her cult and her place within the Greek and Roman pantheons.21 While Artemisâs relative silence in the literary sources cannot be denied, the relative paucity of literature does not necessitate a corresponding lack of scholarship. First, the apparent discrepancy between the importance of her cult worship and her lack of appearances in literature is an intriguing fact per se that warrants further investigation. Second, scholars have not engaged fully with the few sources that do exist. For example, Katherine Haynes, in her book on reading female heroines in the Greek novel, does not mention Anthiaâs association with Artemis at all, despite the fact that Xenophon clearly conflates the 21 Budin 2016, 2. 13 heroine with the goddess at the beginning of his text.22 While others have engaged with the material culture aspect of the goddessâs cult, there is a general scholarly divide between those who study Artemis as a mythological, literary figure and those who study Artemis as a figure of worship. An analysis of the goddessâs role in a novel, set in a city whose civic and religious identity was defined by its mythological connection with the deity, then, also serves as an intriguing case study in which to examine the ways literature and worship coexisted around particular deities. This thesis, over the course of the next three chapters, aims to provide both a better understanding of Artemis as a literary character in Leucippe and Clitophon and a reading of the novel centered around the marginalization of virgins and asylum seekers. My second chapter explores Achilles Tatiusâs construction of Artemis Ephesia as a goddess defined primarily by her connection to and protection of virgins. It first discusses the ways in which the goddess herself, particularly through her status as a virgin huntress, represents notions of liminality and negotiations with power in her divine identity across both mythology and cult worship. Building upon this precedent, Achilles Tatiusâs portrayal of the Artemis Ephesia herself, simultaneously a Panhellenic goddess through her connections with virginity and the deity of a large and influential cult within the Roman Empire at Ephesus, embodies the very process of reconciling past traditions with a present under imperium. I then explore in my third chapter Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of virginity as a peculiarly feminine concern and the ways in which Leucippeâs sexual status at the end of the novel both problematizes the institution of marriage and invites readers to consider alternate interpretations of the ending. Through the connection between female virgins and Artemis, I argue that Achilles Tatius employs virginity 22 âOften upon seeing her at the shrine, Ephesians worshipped her as Artemisâ (ÏÎ¿Î»Î»á½±ÎºÎ¹Ï Î±á½Ïá½´Î½ á¼Ïá½¶ ÏÎ¿á¿¦ ÏÎµÎ¼á½³Î½Î¿Ï Ï á¼°Î´á½¹Î½ÏÎµÏ á¼Ïá½³ÏÎ¹Î¿Î¹ ÏÏÎ¿ÏÎµÎºá½»Î½Î·ÏÎ±Î½ á½¡Ï á¼ÏÏÎµÎ¼Î¹Î½, Xen Ephes 1.7). 14 as a metaphor to create space for expressions of Greek heritage to coexist with imperium and symbolize alternatives to Roman hegemony. The fourth chapter discusses the Greek practice of asylum, specifically in the context of refuge at the Ephesian Artemisium, and the ways in which Achilles Tatiusâs emphasis on Artemisâs protection over virgin asylum seekers elevates an assertion of a Greek practice which had come in tension with Roman hegemony. In doing so, he affirms for his readers the place of Greek tradition alongside the social changes brought by imperium. Together, these three chapters provide a lens into the ways in which the metaphor of virginity, deployed through Artemis within the realms of sex and refuge, explore questions regarding the place of Greek tradition in social landscapes changed by Roman power. 15 II. ARTEMIS: A PANHELLENIC GODDESS OF VIRGINITY As a goddess associated with marginalized populations and periods of transition throughout the Greco-Roman world, Artemis and her cult make for an especially interesting subject of analysis within the context of the Second Sophistic. Though she does not physically occupy much space within Achilles Tatiusâs text, I suggest that the portrayal of her character and role within the narrative arc demonstrate her importance both to the novel and to the themes within it. In particular, the authorâs emphasis on the goddessâs patronage over virgins both portrays her as a Panhellenic deity and inserts the concept of virginity into her domains over sex and refugeâthe latter of which I explore in the third and fourth chapters. This chapter first outlines the ways in which the goddessâs mythology and worship portray her as a potent symbol of liminality and how that particular quality can mirror processes of negotiation with power. It then analyzes specifically the ways in which the goddess and her cult are treated in Leucippe and Clitophon. I argue that Achilles Tatius distinctly constructs the goddess as a deity intimately associated with the concept of virginity, which aligns her portrayal with that of various Greek myths. However, by also depicting the virgin goddess within the context of her cult at Ephesus, he is still able to draw upon the authority of Artemis Ephesia throughout the Roman world. In doing so, he portrays the goddess as an embodiment of the coexistence of Greek tradition with changes brought on by Roman imperium. II.1 Liminality in Myth and Worship As a goddess who governs multiple realms associated with liminality, Artemisâs domains and divine identity mirror the process of negotiating both agency and power. Her status as a perpetual virgin, an almost uniformly prevalent aspect of her character across a 16 variety of manifestations, is attested to by multiple ancient authors.23 This choice of abstinence, Helen King argues, places her in a perpetually liminal state, as âit is logically difficult to make the parthenos wholly asexual, because every parthenos is a potential gyne.â24 Liminality, construed in this way, embodies a constant tension between what one currently is and what one has the potential to be. This negotiation, I suggest, mirrors the negotiations of agency between power and the marginalized discussed in the introduction. Artemisâs association with nature and hunting can similarly be seen as an example of liminality.25 âHunting,â Budin writes, âis an activity that marks a midway point between animal and human,â and Artemisâs authority over this realm marks her governance over an activity in which people (and most often, men) exist in a liminal state while they are performing it.26 At the same time, the wilderness can be viewed as a metaphor for resistance against normative power. As the definitional antithesis to the city, nature is a place where the legal rules of civilization do not apply; power and its restrictions, taboos, and laws hold no sway in the wild. Between her substantial domains of nature and virginity, Artemis thus embodies processes and moments of negotiation with and resistance against power. Indeed, the goddessâs mythological associations with liminality were mirrored in her worship as well. Ruth M. Léger suggests that Artemisâs role in rites of passage for adolescents stemmed from her association with liminal borders, and that âArtemisâs role at the critical moment of transition between adolescence and adulthood operates in both directions; by safeguarding the balance between civilized and wild space, Artemis presides over the 23 E.g. Sappho fr. 44a, ll.4â11; Callim. Hymn 3.6. 24 King 1983, 124. 25 Hom. Il. 21.470 26 Budin 2016, 48. 17 harmonious preservation of both these worlds.â27 Most famously, her cult at Brauron, active between the eighth and third centuries BCE, was the site of various rites of passage for girls undergoing puberty that involved foot-races, processions to altars, animal sacrifices, and dancing.28 Spartan boys, as part of one of their trials designed to prepare them as warriors, were said to have attempted to steal cheeses from the altar of Artemis Orthia while other boys stood by and whipped them in ways so that their blood would fall upon the altar. A priestess of Artemis, holding the ancient statue, stood by and oversaw the trial.29 These processes of transition, like liminality, can be framed as negotiations of agency as adolescents shifted their positionality within society from those of boys and girls to those of men and women. Within both her literary appearances and her worship, Artemis can thus be construed as a divine embodiment of the processes of liminality and give-and-take within human society. As such, it becomes obvious how she could have appeared an attractive figure for someone like Achilles Tatius, who was interested in themes of change and upheaval couched in metaphors of negotiation with power. Indeed, Artemisâs own position as both female and a child (in her perpetual virginity) marginalize her in relation to the other deities on Olympus; she is inferior to Hera, who is female but a fully-matured woman, as well as Apollo, who is similarly young but male.30 It follows that Artemis could be portrayed as a divine protectress and partner to other marginalized characters, such as Leucippe in Leucippe and Cliptophonâa topic which I explore extensively throughout this thesis. Such is not to say that, through his treatment of Leucippe, Achilles Tatius is necessarily extending the relationship between 27 Léger 2017, 77. Légerâs chapter on rites of passage with regard to boysâs and girlsâs transitions in Artemisâs cults provides an excellent and detailed overview of widespread nature of Artemisâs governance over this particular domain in her worship. 28 Ibid., 83. 29 Xen. Lac. II; Plut. Lyc. 18.1â4. 30 Budin 2017, 37. 18 Artemis and his marginalized heroine to a relationship between Artemis and those marginalized by Roman imperium. Just as the realms of sex and refuge serve as symbols for the sorts of negotiations of identity and understandings of tradition that were happening under Roman power, so too does Artemis add another layer to the metaphor. The following section explores Achilles Tatiusâs particular treatment of the goddess through the specific ways in which he draws out a crucial connection between the goddess and the concept of virginity within his text. II.2. Artemisâs Connection to Virginity in Leucippe and Clitophon Achilles Tatius portrays virginity not only as the sole domain of Artemis, but also a necessary quality for someone who wished to enjoy her divine patronage and protection. From Leucippeâs repeated prayers to the goddess for protection against sexual assault (but not generalized physical assault and bodily harm), to Artemisâs connections with the two trials of sexual abstinence at Ephesus, Achilles Tatius maintains a deep connection between virginity and Artemis to the exclusion of most of the goddessâs other spheres of authority. Artemis first appears in a dream to Leucippe, while Leucippe and Clitophon are under the protection of the general Charmides in Egypt, and comforts Leucippe through her traumatic memory of nearly being sacrificed the day before: âWeep no more [...] You will not die, as I will be a helper (Î²Î¿Î·Î¸ÏÏ) for you, but you will remain a virgin (ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Ï) until I escort you as a bride (Î½Ï Î¼ÏÎ¿ÏÏÎ¿Î»á½µÏÏ): no man other than Clitophon will marry you.â31 This promise, which is made immediately after one miraculous save from certain death, both foreshadows and provides a divine explanation for Leucippeâs narrow escape from her second near-death experience, when 31 âÎá½´ νῦν [...] ÎºÎ»Î±á¿ÎµÎ Î¿á½ Î³á½°Ï ÏÎµÎ¸Î½á½µÎ¾á¿Î Î²Î¿Î·Î¸á½¸Ï Î³á½°Ï á¼Î³á½½ ÏÎ¿Î¹ ÏÎ±Ïá½³ÏÎ¿Î¼Î±Î¹Î Î¼ÎµÎ½Îµá¿Ï δὲ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Ï, á¼ÏÏá¾¿ á¼Î½ ÏÎµ Î½Ï Î¼ÏÎ¿ÏÏÎ¿Î»á½µÏÏÎ á¼Î¾ÎµÏÎ±Î¹ δέ ÏÎµ á¼Î»Î»Î¿Ï 5Î¿á½Î´Îµá½¶Ï ἢ ÎÎ»ÎµÎ¹ÏÎ¿Ïá¿¶Î½.â (Ach. Tat. 4.1.4â5). 19 she is seemingly decapitated at the hands of Chaereasâs bandit men.32 Though Artemisâs agency is only directly referenced a handful of times, her promise of saving Leucippe from death predicated on Leucippeâs protection of her own virginity looms in the background of the textâs major plot developments. Given the necessity of Leucippeâs survival for the continuation of narrative, as well as the preservation of her virginity for the tension that builds up to her and Clitophonâs reunion in Book 8, the association between Artemisâs patronage and Leucippeâs status as a virgin is a subtle yet key and ever-present element that drives Achillesâs Tatiusâs narrative. Though Artemis, broadly speaking, does not restrict men from her powers of asylum, her interactions with characters within the text are limited almost exclusively to virginsâand specifically, Leucippe. The relationship between Artemis and Leucippe is mirrored, in terms of narrative placement, by the relationship between Aphrodite and Clitophon. The same night that Artemis first appears to Leucippe, Clitophon dreams of the doors to Aphroditeâs temple slamming shut as he approaches the cult-statue of the goddess inside to pay his respects.33 This connection with Aphrodite is revisited at the end of the novel, when Clitophon directly addresses Aphrodite as he recounts his sexual abstinence with Leucippe to Sostratus: âLady Aphrodite, do not be angry at us for slighting you!â34 Though Artemis and Aphrodite are often depicted as rivals in both Achilles Tatiusâs narrative and the broader mythic tradition, it is important to note that the goddesses are not at odds with one another in these two instances. In the same way that Artemis urges Leucippe to protect her virginity, Aphrodite signals to Clitophon that he must respect Leucippeâs choice of abstinence. Likewise, Clitophonâs appeal 32 Escape from sacrifice: 3.17â22; escape from decapitation: 8.16. 33 4.1.3. 34 Î´á½³ÏÏÎ¿Î¹Î½Î± á¼ÏÏÎ¿Î´á½·ÏÎ·, μὴ Î½ÎµÎ¼ÎµÏá½µÏá¿Ï á¼¡Î¼á¿Î½ á½¡Ï á½Î²ÏÎ¹ÏÎ¼á½³Î½Î· (8.5.8). 20 to Aphrodite at the end of the novel is not for her blessing in love; instead, it is to ask for her pardon regarding his lack of erotic engagement with Leucippe. Aphrodite, in this regard, fulfills a very similar role for Clitophon as Artemis does for Leucippe, and both goddesses are associated with the preservation of Leucippeâs virginity. Though it may be curious to view Aphrodite as a patron of sexual abstinence, I argue that she undertakes this role for Clitophon due to Artemisâs exclusive relationship with Leucippe. Indeed, Artemis does not interact with Clitophon in the way she does with Leucippe, nor does Clitophon speak directly to Artemis as he does with Aphrodite. Such is not to say, however, that Clitophon has nothing to do with the goddess at all. On the contrary, he comes in notable contact with members of Artemisâs cult at Ephesus and the other manifestations of her worship by mortals. It is the chance appearance by a priest of Artemis, for example, as part of an oncoming pilgrimage to the goddess which releases Clitophon from a precarious situation of anticipated torture.35 Clitophon furthermore invokes Artemisâs name after Thersander strikes him in the goddessâs temple when he exclaims, âI am struck on the altar itself, while, for goodnessâs sake, the goddess watches. These blows are against Artemis herself!â36 The key to his affront, however, lies in the violation of the sanctity of Artemisâs asylum at her temple, which Clitophon then dramatizes into a personal insult to the goddess for rhetorical purposes. Artemis, through the presence of her cult at Ephesus, governs a sphere of influence that affects both men and women in the novel alike. It is only Leucippe, however, to whom the goddess 35 7.12.3. The appearance of the priest occurs right as Clinias calls out to the gods for assistance (ÏÎ¿á¿¦ ÎÎ»ÎµÎ¹Î½á½·Î¿Ï καὶ á¼ÏÎ¹ÎºÎ±Î»Î¿á¿¦Î½ÏÎ¿Ï ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ Î¸ÎµÎ¿á½»Ï), and one can interpret the ambiguity of the genitive absolute to indicate a causal relationship. Regardless of how one takes the construction, however, it is important that Clinias, being a man, does not appeal directly to Artemis for her help. 36 Ïá½»ÏÏÎ¿Î¼Î±Î¹ ÏÎ±Ïá¾¿ Î±á½Ïá¿· Ïá¿· Î²ÏÎ¼á¿·, Î²Î»ÎµÏÎ¿á½»ÏÎ·Ï, οἴμοι, Ïá¿Ï θεοῦ. á¼Ïá½¶ Ïá½´Î½ á¼ÏÏÎµÎ¼Î¹Î½ αἱ ÏÎ»Î·Î³Î±á½· (8.2.2â3). 21 personally appears and for whom she ensures survival. Male characters, including Clitophon, associate with the goddess through the mortal representatives of her cult members. The one notable exception to Artemisâs exclusive relationship with Leucippe is her direct interaction with Leucippeâs father, Sostratus. As Sostratus describes, Artemis appeared to him in a dream and informed him that Leucippe and Clitophon were in Ephesus, and his resulting expedition to the city is the fortuitous event that saves Clitophon from torture.37 This episode is especially curious given that it mirrors Artemisâs appearance to Leucippe in her dream. Sostratus, however, is a sexually mature, male general who has very little in common with Artemisâs established domain over virginsâor women, children, the wilderness, and liminal rites of passage in broader mythological contexts. I argue that it is indeed this complete lack of overlap which keeps him from challenging Artemisâs realms of power and allows him to interact with the goddess unproblematically. Unlike Clitophon, Thersander, and various other men who are smitten with Leucippe throughout the plot, he is not a threat to Leucippeâs virginity. Unlike Melite, he is not a woman, and thus he was never able to have been considered a woman in the first place. His primary function within the narrative is to introduce the possibility of Leucippeâs freeborn status, and as such, his close association with his daughter is the only element of his character which ties him to Artemis. Virginity is thus inextricably linked to Artemis within the narrative of Leucippe and Clitophon. The goddess serves as Leucippeâs protector only so long as Leucippe actively safeguards her virginity through her own sexual agency. By placing this interpretation within the broader context of Asia Minor under the Roman Empire, I argue in the following section for a reading of the goddess and her particular cult at Ephesus within the novel as a deliberately 37 7.12.4. 22 constructed assertion of Greek tradition and mythology. II.3. A Panhellenic Artemis Ephesia As previously noted, Artemis, across her various manifestations in myths and cult worship throughout the ancient Mediterranean, asserts her power over a number of domainsâfrom the wilderness and the hunt to women and childbirth. The association between Artemis and virgins is well-attested to in Greek (and Roman) mythology, but the most important myth to her specific cult at Ephesus emphasizes not her identity as a virgin goddess, but her birth at the nearby grove of Ortygia.38 According to Strabo, the Curetes stood atop Mt. Solmissus and created such a noisy din that they were able to shield Leto from a jealous Hera and allow her to give birth to Artemis in safety.39 This myth became central to Ephesusâs civic and religious identity, and Guy MacLean Rogers suggests that the participation of Curetes in a yearly festival must trace back, in some degree, to this birth story.40 Ephesusâs appeal to the Roman Senate for the continuation of its asylum rites on account of Ortygiaâs proximityâa passage I discuss in great detail in the fourth chapterâfurther demonstrates that Ephesians prided themselves on their unique claim to Artemisâs birthplace.41 It is thus especially curious that Achilles Tatius does not reference this myth at all in his portrayal of Artemis, despite the fact that a great portion of his novel takes place at Ephesus and specifically features priests of the cult of Artemis Ephesia. Just as he evades discussion of Artemisâs birth at Ortygia in his novel, Achilles Tatius 38 The Homeric Hymn to Delian Apollo identifies Ortygia as the birthplace of Artemis (HH 3.15â16). 39 Strab. Geog. 14.1.20. 40 Rogers 2012, 262. 41 Tac. Ann. 3.61. 23 makes no allusion to any of the localized epithets of Artemis that have been found on inscriptional evidence from Ephesus. The goddess was generally worshipped as a benevolent deity who kept people safe and healthy, and she was addressed by a variety of titles by Ephesians including Lady (ÎÏ ÏÎ¯Î±), Savior (Î£ÏÏÎµÎ¹ÏÎ±), Heavenly Goddess (Îá½ÏÎ¬Î½Î¹Î¿Ï Î¸Îµá½¸Ï), and Queen of the Cosmos (ÎÎ±ÏÎ¹Î»Î·á½¶Ï ÎºÏÏÎ¼Î¿Ï ).42 Unlike her portrayal in Leucippe and Clitophon, her presence at Ephesus was not restricted to her identity as a virgin goddess and indeed, did not appear to revolve (at least publicly) around her virginity or association with virgins. While she does act as a protector/savior for Leucippe in the novel, her benevolence, as understood by the Ephesians, did not only apply to virgin women. Such a manifestation of her worship makes good sense: as the patron deity of Ephesus, it would naturally follow that all genders of Ephesians would turn to their goddess for general protection against the various hardships of life. By contrast, Achilles Tatius depicts a strong connection between Artemis Ephesia and the concept of virginity. When faced with physical assault from Thersander, Leucippe cries out, âTell me, do you not fear that Artemis of yours? Would you rape a virgin (ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Î½) in the virginâs city (Ïá½¹Î»ÎµÎ¹ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Ï )? Lady goddess, where are your arrows?â43 The possessive Ïá½´Î½ Ïá½´Î½ directed at Thersander makes a particularly strong point here. Despite the fact that she is an actual virgin who is under the special protection of Artemis, Leucippe associates Artemis as Thersanderâs deity, due to the fact that he is Ephesian. Her description of Ephesus as Ïá½¹Î»ÎµÎ¹ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Ï further emphasizes her point. Thersanderâs actions are framed as particularly shameful due to his disregard for what Leucippe sees as his cityâs patron deityâs most important 42 A list of inscriptional epithets for Artemis Ephesia can be found in Oster 1990, 1724. 43 Î¿á½Î´á½² Ïá½´Î½ á¼ÏÏÎµÎ¼Î¹Î½, Îµá¼°Ïá½³ μοι, Ïá½´Î½ Ïá½´Î½ ÏÎ¿Î²á¿, á¼Î»Î»á½° Î²Î¹á½±Î¶á¿ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Î½ á¼Î½ Ïá½¹Î»ÎµÎ¹ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Ï ; Îá½³ÏÏÎ¿Î¹Î½Î±, ÏÎ¿á¿¦ ÏÎ¿á¿¦ Ïá½° Ïá½¹Î¾Î±; (6.21.2â3). 24 identifier. In her interpretation of this passage, Thomas argues that âArtemis Ephesia would not be portrayed with arrows [...] the author seems to have in mind Artemis the huntress.â44 It is important to note that these two versions of Artemis are not mutually exclusive; in fact, Artemis Ephesia was represented on coinage with stags in the second century BCE.45 Thomas is correct, however, in that Achilles Tatius appears to be making a conscious choice as to what version of Artemis Ephesia he wishes to emphasize. Rather than portraying Artemis as the specifically Ephesian goddess who serves as the general patron deity over her city and whose cult statue has famously distinct Anatolian imagery on her chest, Achilles Tatius opts to construct Artemis as a virgin huntress.46 This framing is less localized to Ephesus and, instead, portrays Artemis more in her Panhellenic guise. References to Artemis as a huntress recall her Homeric epithet potnia theron, âqueen of beasts,â or descriptions of the goddess in a variety of Homeric Hymns.47 The Rhodopis myth of the spring at which Meliteâs abstinence was tested evokes familiar mythological images of an Artemis who is unforgiving of foregone virginityâas she is, for instance, in the myth of Callisto. Recently, Jan Bremmer has noted that this Rhodopis myth, which had previously been thought to have no known antecedents, did most likely circulate in some form due to a calyx-crater by the Darius Painter which features Artemis, Rhodopis, Aphrodite, Apollo, and Hippolytus.48 The antagonism between Artemis and 44 Thomas 2004, 88. 45 Trebilco 2007, 23. 46 This choice is mirrored by Xenophon of Ephesus, who describes Anthia as likened to Artemis dressed in a fawnskin (Î½ÎµÎ²Ïá½¶Ï) with a quiver (Î³ÏÏÏ Ïá½¸Ï) and bow (ÏÏÎ¾Î±) and followed by dogs (ÎºÏÎ½ÎµÏ) (Xen Ephes 1.6â7). In reference to this passage, Whitmarsh has cautioned scholars from condemning Xenophon for inaccurate portrayals of Artemisâs cult at Ephesus due to a seeming lack of epichoric details (2011, 29). 47 E.g. Il. 21.470; ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸Î­Î½Î¿Î½ á¼°Î¿ÏÎ­Î±Î¹ÏÎ±Î½, âvirgin archerâ (HH 9.2). 48 Bremmer 2020, 492. 25 Aphrodite within this myth and the general portrayal of their antithetical domains throughout the novel recall similar disputes upon the bodies of mortals between these two goddesses, as portrayed in works like Euripidesâs Hippolytus. The framing of Artemis as a virgin huntress thus evokes a wide range of stories which serve to situate her within the broad tradition of Greek mythology. Achilles Tatius makes a clear effort to delocalize her from the particularly Ephesian aspects of her mythological character while still elevating the importance of her specific cult at Ephesus to the narrative. As such, Artemis is constructed as a broadly Panhellenic goddess who is also intimately tied to a particular city. Indeed, Clitophon delineates a boundary between Ephesian Artemis and Scythian Artemis when he exclaims, after being assaulted in Artemisâs temple by Thersander, âAre these not the actions of barbarians (Î²á½±ÏÎ²Î±ÏÎ¿Î¹), of Taurians and for Artemis of the Scythians? Only amongst them is the temple bloodied in this way: you have made Ionia Scythia! The blood that flows in Tauris flows in Ephesus as well!â49 Whitmarsh notes in the footnotes of his translation that âthe Scythians of Tauris [...] were best known among the Greeks [...] for their supposed human sacrifices in honor of Artemis. The Scythians were thus reckoned to be especially barbarous.â50 This passage further strengthens the notion that Achilles Tatiusâs Ephesian Artemis is analogous to a Panhellenic Greek Artemis, as she is specifically contrasted to the Artemis worshipped by the âbarbarianâ Scythians. Artemisâs construction within this novel thus serves to align her both with a general assertion of Greek tradition and the specific city of Ephesus as the seat of her power in Asia Minor. As a city which called itself âtwice neokoros,â a term most scholars agree referenced 49 Î¿á½ Î²á½±ÏÎ²Î±ÏÎ¿Î¹ ÏÎ±á¿¦ÏÎ± καὶ Î¤Î±á¿¦ÏÎ¿Î¹, καὶ ἡ á¼ÏÏÎµÎ¼Î¹Ï ἡ Î£ÎºÏ θῶν; á½ ÏÎ±Ïá¾¿ á¼ÎºÎµá½·Î½Î¿Î¹Ï Î¼á½¹Î½Î¿Ï Î½Îµá½¼Ï Î¿á½ÏÏÏ Î±á¼±Î¼á½±ÏÏÎµÏÎ±Î¹Î Ïá½´Î½ á¼¸ÏÎ½á½·Î±Î½ Î£ÎºÏ θίαν ÏÎµÏÎ¿á½·Î·ÎºÎ±Ï, καὶ á¼Î½ á¼Ïá½³Ïá¿³ á¿¥Îµá¿ Ïá½° á¼Î½ Î¤Î±á½»ÏÎ¿Î¹Ï Î±á¼µÎ¼Î±ÏÎ± (8.2.3â4). 50 Whitmarsh 2001, 160 (n. 8.2). 26 Artemis and the Sebastoi, Ephesus could boast that its cult of Artemis rivaled even the imperial cult, at least within its city walls.51 Additionally, Romeâs concession of Ephesusâs asylum rights at its temple of Artemisâa matter I discuss extensively in the fourth chapterâdemonstrated its regard for Ephesusâs long history that was intertwined with its mythological connection to Artemis.52 As such, an Artemis who was simultaneously Panhellenic and Ephesian enjoyed the âbest of both worlds:â she could stand both as a validation of the generalized manifestation of Greek tradition and culture and as the divine patron of a city who maintained its power and influence under Roman religious and legal hegemony. By portraying Artemis in this way, Achilles Tatius exemplifies within the goddess the ways in which Greek heritage can both be preserved within and adapt to changes brought on by Roman imperium. 51 Friesen 1993, 56. 52 Shannon-Henderson 2019, 149. 27 III. FEMALE VIRGINITY AS SEXUAL AGENCY In addition to its close association with Artemis, virginity is portrayed within Leucippe and Clitophon as a concern pertinent only to women within the realm of sex. Although this observation may seem obvious given my definition of virginity as a state only women can hold, Achilles Tatiusâs insistent connection between femininity and virginity is something that must be noted. The authorâs emphasis on the importance of virginity as a female quality is best illustrated by the question of Leucippeâs ongoing sexual abstinence as a major narrative engine within the novel, one which at times even eclipses that of her physical well-being. 53 It is the verification of Leucippeâs lack of intercourse (not Clitophonâs) that leads to the final resolution of the plot and allows her and Clitophon to reunite and return home to Byzantium. As such, the specific connection between virginity and womanhood, as well as the resulting implications for female agency in sex, present as a particularly salient theme for study within this novel. I argue within this chapter that Achilles Tatius utilizes extant anxieties regarding women engaging in undetectable intercourse as a metaphor for the shifting understandings of self-positioning and the breakdown of previously simpler social categories of âGreekâ or âRoman.â I suggest that the notion of virginity in Leucippe and Clitophon simultaneously represents the negotiation of agency between men and women and, as discussed previously, acts as a symbol of Greek myth and tradition through its association with Artemis. Through this metaphor, he raises the place of Greek heritage as coexisting with or perhaps even an alternative to Roman imperium, much in the same way women were able to negotiate for their sexual agencies by subverting the power that patriarchal norms held over them through 53 Ormand suggests that âthe heroineâs virginity both drives the plot of Romance and mirrors its mode of narrative expositionâ for not only Achilles Tatius, but more broadly across the ancient novel (2010, 162). 28 perpetual virginity and sexual abstinence. Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of this topic is not necessarily meant to be read as a resistance cry to Roman imperium, but instead, as an affirmation of Greek tradition to persist alongside the myriad social changes brought on by Roman power. This chapter first situates the issue of virginity within its social and historical context and explore the reasons why it may have been an especially topical issue for the negotiation of agency to readers of Achilles Tatius in the Roman Empire. Having discussed the historical background, I proceed onto a close reading of virginity within the novel and its treatment as a feminine concern. Through his depiction, Achilles Tatius portrays the concept of virginity as a tool of power which not only is wielded against women in sex, but can also, as I argue, be utilized by women against patriarchal norms. Finally, I explore the ways in which the depiction of virginity within the novel, both in its narrative significance and its association with Greek tradition through Artemis, presents alternate possibilities to the hegemonic force of imperium by problematizing the important Roman institution of marriage. III.1. Female Sexual Status as a Metaphor for Roman Uncertainty Before engaging in an analysis of the ways in which female virginity would have been a resonant topic for Achilles Tatius and his audience, it is first necessary to discuss the place and importance of female virginity and sexual status as a concept within Roman society and culture. Sissa, in her extensive discussion of ancient understandings of the hymen, identifies the âdilemma of visible-versus-invisible copulation; detectable-versus-undetectable sexual actsâ as a constant theme throughout the ancient world.54 Pregnancy, she identifies, was a 54 Sissa 2013, 72. 29 definitive and visible confirmation of sexual activityâthat âheterosexual intercourse had occurred in the female body.â55 But while pregnancy was a reliable positive signal that a woman had engaged in intercourse, no such indicator existed to show that a woman had remained abstinent, as intercourse did not always result in pregnancy. As such, the sexual state of virginity was unprovable through visual and non-invasive means. The fundamental uncertainty regarding a womanâs sexual history was thus a pervasive theme throughout the ancient Mediterranean (and indeed, still is in the modern world at large). The Romans, in particular, were uniquely sensitive to these questions of sexual status and, more broadly, sexual ethics. In her monograph on Roman sexual morality, Rebecca Langlands identifies the concept of pudicitia as a Latin term which she loosely translates as âsexual virtue.â She remarks that there is no direct Greek equivalent of the term, thereby suggesting that the Roman notion of pudicitia developed independent of Hellenistic roots.56 It is important to note that pudicitia was not solely a feminine quality and that the virtue was said to strengthen both men and women.57 However, given Langlandsâs assertion that âvirtue is something to be displayed and demonstrated to others through action, whereas sex is essentially an exclusive, private and often socially invisible practice,â one can see the peculiar relevance of pudicitia to women and questions of visibly demonstrating proof of their virginal status. Indeed, Langlands points out that âpudicitia is often about not participating in prohibited sexual activity,â and it is this emphasis on abstinence that makes it a particularly lauded virtue among women.58 It is no coincidence that Lucretia, seen by many Roman sources to be the model of pudicitia, was a woman. 55 Ibid., 103. 56 Langlands 2009, 2. 57 Val. Max. 6.1.praef. 58 Langlands 2009, 5. 30 Within a culture already moralistically primed with a deep concern for proper sexual behavior, Roman men would have encountered complications brought on by the use of contraception. Though the popularity of its use in the Roman Empire remains debated, one must acknowledge that methods of birth control existed.59 The expertise of how contraception worked, both in their handling and consumption, was furthermore kept primarily among women. As such, there was a situation of asymmetrical knowledge regarding the state of womenâs bodies and the implications for their sexuality: both acts of hidden intercourse, and the methods by which those acts were hidden, were held by women and kept from men. I argue that this sense of uncertainty regarding female sexuality mirrors the polyvalence of identifications of those living in the Greek world under Roman rule. Several scholars have remarked upon the fluidity of charactersâs statuses within the Greek novel: Whitmarsh, for example, comments upon the âpermeability of social boundaries and the fragility of statusâ found within these narratives, especially in the ways they prompt readers to sympathize with the plights of subaltern groups. The novels, he suggests, are a reminder to ancient audiences that âthey are all only one kidnapping away from social ruin.â60 Indeed, Leucippeâs own journey from the daughter of an elite family to a slave and back illustrates this very trope of mutable identities. Susan Stephens, in her discussion of cultural identity in the ancient novel, reaches a similar conclusion that the novel âallowed experiment with paradigms for understanding and acting in a world where âGreekâ covered more than one social, political or 59 Among ancient authors, Ovid (Am. 2.14) and Seneca (Helv. 16.3) both imply that abortion was commonplace among elite women. Among scholars, Sissa suggests that the banalization of birth control in the early Empire led, in part, to the creation of the hymen as a biological indicator for a womanâs virginal status (2013, 113â117). Kapparis assumes that abortion was both safe and easy in the ancient world (2002, 83). 60 Whitmarsh 2008, 86. 31 ethnic reality.â61 As such, anxieties surrounding the sexual status of women mirror uncertainties caused by the ramifications of Roman imperium. In both cases, appearances had the potential to be deceiving. A woman who was not pregnant was not necessarily sexually abstinent. A citizen of Roman Asia Minor did not necessarily predicate a specific place of origin, occupation, or even family name. Indeed, this polyvalence of Greek identification in the first and second centuries can be seen in a variety of cultural markers beyond the literature of the time. Tiberius Claudius Aristion, a man whom Pliny the Younger calls the âchief citizen of Ephesus (principes Ephesiorum)â in a letter dating to 106/7 CE, was the alleged benefactor of a large portrait statue of Trajan in the Nymphaeum.62 Aristion, scholars believe, had been involved in the construction of the statue due to the emperorâs support in his trial (from which he was eventually acquitted), and a variety of inscriptions which demonstrate his connection to the imperial cult show that he must have been close with Trajan.63 What is especially interesting regarding Aristion, however, is the bilingual nature of his name: the praenomen and nomen are both standard Latin, but the cognomen, Aristion, is notably Greek.64 This blend of Roman and Greek can similarly be seen in art and architecture. The basilica at Aphrodisias, built around the turn of the first century CE, displayed a prominence of local Hellenic mythology on a distinctly Roman building typeâa blend that Bahadir Yildirim suggests was a deliberate 61 Stephens 2008, 59. 62 Plin. Ep. 6.31.3. 63 Ng 2007, 204. Dedications show that Claudius Aristion was an asiarch (IEph. 2.427), high priest of the city, and temple warden of the imperial cult (e.g. IEph. 2.234, 235, 237, 239). 64 Adams 2003, 369â375 talks more broadly concerning the code-switching of names and, in particular, the ways in which names from different languages are inflected. He notes the tendency in bilingual communities for names in the regionâs primary culture to be âdropped, modified or supplemented by names from a secondary culture [â¦] when a secondary culture was becoming dominant and a language shift was taking placeâ (370). 32 association with the foundation legends of Rome on the Basilica Aemilia.65 In both examples, a mix of Greek and Roman social and cultural elements were blended to create a distinctly Greco-Roman product, in ways that obfuscated previous categorical understandings of what it meant for something or someone to be either Greek or Roman. Ethnic and cultural identities, much like female sexuality, eluded definition and lacked easy answers. In light of the general fluidity and uncertainty that surrounded questions of past traditions and present practices within this region and period, then, it perhaps becomes clearer why virginity may have comprised such a large and important theme in Achilles Tatiusâs narrative. The novel, being set in an indeterminate time and place, is certainly not implying that the characters within the novel are concerned with Leucippeâs proper demonstration of pudicitia in addition to the question of her sexual status. I suggest, instead, that Achilles Tatiusâs use of virginity as a narrative device within his novel allows him to engage with questions of past vs. present through several metaphorical layers which may have been of particular relevance to his reader. Questions of agency in sex not only mirror shifting understandings of the place of Greek heritage in Asia Minor under Roman imperium, but it is also, in and of itself, another locus of male anxiety and uncertainty. By associating these two social processes with one another, Achilles Tatius contextualizes questions about the relationship between Greek tradition and Roman hegemony within an extant source of tension between women and men and suggests that a potential answer to the former may echo the negotiations of agency found in the latter. The next sections engage in a close reading of the portrayal and treatment of feminine virginity in Leucippe and Clitophon. The association of feminine virginity as the main connection with Artemis and her Greek mythology within this 65 Yildirim 2004, 31. 33 novel, I then argue, allows Achilles Tatius to ground his metaphor further in questions regarding the changing place and importance of Greek tradition and myth under Roman power. III.2. Virginity and Women in Leucippe and Clitophon Achilles Tatius conspicuously draws myriad connections between the concept of virginity and women throughout his novel. In doing so, he reinforces the notion of virginity as a tool of power over sex and female sexual agency, thereby framing further associations with the idea within the understanding of sex as a social space for the negotiation of agency between men and women. Virginity, first and foremost, is constructed as a solely feminine concern within this novel. Clitophon questions, on two separate occasions, whether there is a male corollary to the concept: first, in his letter response to Leucippe in which he asserts that he was sexually abstinent throughout their time apart, and second, when he reassures Sostratus that both he and Leucippe refrained from sex during their travelsâat least, with each other.66 In both instances, Clitophon raises the possibility of male virginity so as to prove his commitment to sexual abstinence as equal to Leucippeâs. Despite his clear desire to demonstrate himself as worthy of Leucippe, Clitophon nevertheless acknowledges that his sexual abstinence is fundamentally different from that of Leucippe. Regardless of whether he questions the notion of male virginity simply to hedge his words concerning his sexual activities, it is clear that virginity, as it is constructed by Achilles Tatius, is something that men can only approximate in behavior but not replicate in meaning. The notion that men exist outside the binary of virgin/non-virgin is not only voiced by 66 Letter to Leucippe: εἴ ÏÎ¹Ï á¼ÏÏá½¶ καὶ á¼Î½ á¼Î½Î´Ïá½±ÏÎ¹ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸ÎµÎ½Î¹Î± (5.20.5); speech to Sostratus: εἴ ÏÎ¹Ï á¼ÏÎ± á¼ÏÏá½¶Î½ á¼Î½Î´Ïá½¸Ï ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸ÎµÎ½á½·Î± (8.5.7). Clitophonâs words to Sostratus are carefully constructed so as to specify that he did not sleep with Leucippe, thereby sidestepping his one-night affair with Melite in Ephesus. 34 Clitophon with regard to his own sexual abstinence, but seen in the rules of asylum at Artemisâs temple in Ephesus. As the text describes, âthe temple, since long ago, was forbidden to free women (Î³Ï ναιξὶν á¼Î»ÎµÏ Î¸á½³ÏÎ±Î¹Ï), but had been open to men (á¼Î½Î´Ïá½±ÏÎ¹) and virgins (ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Î¹Ï). If any woman (Î³Ï νή) entered, the proper punishment was death, unless she was a slave who was bringing a legal complaint against her master.â67 The next chapter discusses the general notion of asylum within the context of Achilles Tatiusâs narrative in greater detail and historical context, but it is important to note here that men are not subjected to the same bifurcation of virgin vs. non-virgin and are free to seek refuge from Artemis regardless of their sexual activity or lack thereof. It is important to note, furthermore, that despite the close links between Artemisâs assurance of Leucippeâs survival and the preservation of Leucippeâs virginity, it is not the goddess, but Leucippe, who defends herself against the possibility of sexual assault. Her commitment and initiative are perhaps best illustrated in her response to Thersanderâs aggressive advances upon her. In their second meeting, the day after Thersander first becomes taken with Leucippe, he attempts to kiss her before escalating to further violence by pulling on her hair and grabbing her chin when she hides her face away. Despite Thersanderâs clear ability to dominate and injure her physically, Leucippe maintains her boundaries during a brief moment of respite in their struggle: âDonât bother continuing. Your wishes will never come true, unless you become Clitophon.â68 Demonstrating that she does not fear his violent inclinations even after he strikes her on the face, she continues: 67 Ïá½¸ δὲ ÏÎ±Î»Î±Î¹á½¸Î½ á¼Î²Î±ÏÎ¿Ï ἦν Î³Ï ναιξὶν á¼Î»ÎµÏ Î¸á½³ÏÎ±Î¹Ï Î¿á½ÏÎ¿Ï á½ Î½ÎµÏÏ, á¼Î½Î´Ïá½±ÏÎ¹ δὲ á¼ÏÎµÏá½³ÏÏÎ±ÏÏÎ¿ καὶ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Î¹Ï. εἰ δέ ÏÎ¹Ï Îµá¼´ÏÏ ÏÎ±Ïá¿Î»Î¸Îµ Î³Ï νή, Î¸á½±Î½Î±ÏÎ¿Ï ἦν ἡ δίκη, ÏÎ»á½´Î½ εἰ μὴ δούλη ÏÎ¹Ï ἦν á¼Î³ÎºÎ±Î»Î¿á¿¦ÏÎ± Ïá¿· Î´ÎµÏÏá½¹Ïá¿ (7.13.2â3). 68 â[...] á¼Î»Î»á¾¿ á¼Ïá½³ÏÎ¿Ï ÏÎ¿á¿¦ Î»Î¿Î¹ÏÎ¿á¿¦, μηδὲ á¼Î»Ïá½·Ïá¿Ï ÏÏ ÏÎµá¿Î½, ÏÎ»á½´Î½ εἰ μὴ Î³á½³Î½á¿ ÎÎ»ÎµÎ¹ÏÎ¿Ïá¿¶Î½â (6.18.6). 35 âPut out your tortures; someone bring the wheel! Here are my hands; stretch them out. And bring the whip! Here is my back; strike it. Bring the fire! Here is my body; burn it. Bring the sword too! Here is my neck; cut it open. Behold a new contest: one woman contends against all manners of tortures and overcomes them all.â âÏá½°Ï Î²Î±Ïá½±Î½Î¿Ï Ï ÏÎ±Ïá½±ÏÏÎ·ÏÎ¿Î½, ÏÎµÏá½³ÏÏ ÏÏÎ¿Ïá½¹Î½Î ἰδοὺ ÏÎµá¿ÏÎµÏ, ÏÎµÎ¹Î½á½³ÏÏ. Î¦ÎµÏá½³ÏÏ καὶ Î¼á½±ÏÏÎ¹Î³Î±ÏÎ ἰδοὺ Î½á¿¶ÏÎ¿Î½, ÏÏ ÏÏá½³ÏÏ. ÎÎ¿Î¼Î¹Î¶á½³ÏÏ Ïá¿¦ÏÎ ἰδοὺ Ïá¿¶Î¼Î±, ÎºÎ±Î¹á½³ÏÏ. Î¦ÎµÏá½³ÏÏ καὶ Ïá½·Î´Î·ÏÎ¿Î½Î ἰδοὺ Î´á½³ÏÎ·, ÏÏÎ±Î¶á½³ÏÏ. á¼Î³á¿¶Î½Î± Î¸Îµá½±ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸Îµ ÎºÎ±Î¹Î½á½¹Î½Î ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïá½±ÏÎ±Ï Ïá½°Ï Î²Î±Ïá½±Î½Î¿Ï Ï á¼Î³ÏÎ½á½·Î¶ÎµÏÎ±Î¹ μία Î³Ï νή, καὶ Ïá½±Î½ÏÎ± Î½Î¹Îºá¾·.â (Ach. Tat. 6.21.1â2) Haynes recognizes this scene as one of the moments in which Leucippe demonstrates her use of rhetoric in order to âtake ownership of these threatsâ and â[upset] Thersanderâs equilibrium.â69 The heroine achieves her intended outcome; Thersander, taken aback by Leucippeâs boldness, retreats for the time being to plot further against her. Leucippeâs fierce and courageous protection of her virginity against Thersanderâs advances stands in stark contrast to the contrived ways in which she evades death. Unlike her episode in Egypt, where Satyrusâs stroke of genius to engineer a fake human stomach out of a sheepâs skin and innards saves her from grisly evisceration, or her brush with decapitation in which her bandit captors unexpectedly exchange her with an unsuspecting sex worker, Leucippe escapes Thersander solely through her own faculties. Though her exchanges with Chaereas and Sosthenes are not described in such narrative detail, one can imagine that she likely would have utilized similar tactics to evade successfully the advances of the other men. Though her near-misses with death appear as inexplicable and outrageous acts of kindness to others, the reader knows that it is Leucippe alone who protects herself against sexual assault.70 69 Haynes 2002, 84. 70 For instance, Clinias remarks to Clitophon, âWho knows [...] if [Leucippe] may live again? For has she not died more than once (ÏÎ¿Î»Î»á½±ÎºÎ¹Ï); and more than once has she not come back 36 The concept of virginity is so closely tied to female sexual agency that despite Artemisâs domain over virgins and virginity, the goddess takes a secondary role when it comes to the determination of a womanâs history of sexual intercourse. This passivity is illustrated in Leucippeâs trial of the panpipes at the end of the narrative. As a priest of Artemis explains the myth behind the location of the trial, the cave which Leucippe enters was the place at which a woman, who was fleeing assault from the god Pan, sank into the ground and sprouted reeds. An irate Pan hacked the reeds up and created a set of panpipes, which produced the sound of a flute when he kissed them in his grief. The god subsequently handed the space over to Artemis after âmaking a pact with her that no woman (Î³Ï Î½Î±á¿ÎºÎ±) will enter there.â71 As such, it is indeed Artemis who governs the space of the trial, but it is not the goddess herself who produces the verdict either validating or denying the trial-goerâs virginity. Regarding the procedure of the trial, the priest describes, âif she is a virgin (ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Ï), some clear and heavenly note is heard [...] but if she has lied about being a virgin, the panpipes are silent, and a wailing is sent forth from the cave instead of music.â72 The most immediate arbiter of virginity are thus the panpipes themselves, which originally were a woman who had the active power to abstain from sexual to life?â (âÎ¤á½·Ï Î³á½°Ï οἶδεν, εἰ Î¶á¿ Ïá½±Î»Î¹Î½; μὴ Î³á½°Ï Î¿á½ ÏÎ¿Î»Î»á½±ÎºÎ¹Ï Ïá½³Î¸Î½Î·ÎºÎµ; μὴ Î³á½°Ï Î¿á½ ÏÎ¿Î»Î»á½±ÎºÎ¹Ï á¼Î½ÎµÎ²á½·Ï;â, 7.6.2). In doing so, Clinias questions whether Leucippeâs survival is simply due to chance; the emphasis on Leucippeâs repeated good fortune, as well as the inelaborate description of her death and then her subsequent revival, hints at some other force at work to which Clinias is not privy and does not understand. 71 ÏÏ Î½Î¸á½µÎºÎ±Ï ÏÎ¿Î¹Î·Ïá½±Î¼ÎµÎ½Î¿Ï ÏÏá½¸Ï Î±á½Ïá½µÎ½, μηδεμίαν á¼ÎºÎµá¿ ÎºÎ±ÏÎ±Î²Î±á½·Î½ÎµÎ¹Î½ Î³Ï Î½Î±á¿ÎºÎ± (8.6.12). I have chosen to remain as close to the Greek as possible and thus have translated Î³Ï Î½Î±á¿ÎºÎ± simply as âwoman.â However, various other translators have chosen to emphasize the necessary loss of virginity that separates a gyne from a parthenos. Whitmarsh, for example, chooses to translate Î³Ï Î½Î±á¿ÎºÎ± as âfemale with experience of womanhoodâ (2001, 130), while Gaslee opts for âwoman no longer a maidâ (1969, 407). 72 Îºá¼Î½ μὲν á¾ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸á½³Î½Î¿Ï, Î»Î¹Î³Ï Ïá½¹Î½ ÏÎ¹ Î¼á½³Î»Î¿Ï á¼ÎºÎ¿á½»ÎµÏÎ±Î¹ καὶ á¼Î½Î¸ÎµÎ¿Î½ [...] á¼á½°Î½ δὲ á¾ Ïá½´Î½ ÏÎ±ÏÎ¸ÎµÎ½á½·Î±Î½ á¼ÏÎµÏ ÏÎ¼á½³Î½Î·, ÏÎ¹ÏÏá¾· μὲν ἡ Ïá½»ÏÎ¹Î³Î¾, Î¿á¼°Î¼ÏÎ³á½´ δέ ÏÎ¹Ï á¼Î½Ïá½¶ Î¼Î¿Ï ÏÎ¹Îºá¿Ï á¼Îº ÏÎ¿á¿¦ ÏÏÎ·Î»Î±á½·Î¿Ï Ïá½³Î¼ÏÎµÏÎ±Î¹ (8.6.13â14). 37 activity.73 Through the various ways his narrative engages with the notion of virginity, Achilles Tatius makes it clear that the topic is intimately associated with female sexual agency. While virginity is often a tool of power used by men to limit the sexual agency of women, I argue in the next section that the use of this concept within a broader problematization of marriage can, indeed, also be read as a means to undermine patriarchal expectations. In light of the associations between virginity and Greek myth established through Artemis within the novel, I suggest that Achilles Tatius utilizes perpetual female virginity as a metaphor for Greek tradition to present alternate possibilities which may both challenge and coexist with Roman power. III.3 Greek Traditions as Alternatives to Imperium In his analysis of social laws, Claude Lévi-Strauss suggests that in the language of marriage regulations and kinship systems, âwomen of the group [are] circulated between clans, lineages, or families, in the place of the words of the group, which are circulated between individuals.â74 Under Lévi-Straussâs formulation, then, the constructed female body provides a symbolic locus upon which men, in their shared system of communication, engage with the broader frameworks which define social relations and hierarchies among them. Applying Lévi- 73 This dynamic is mirrored in Meliteâs trial as well. Artemis is a key player in the mythological origin of the location at which Melite is tested, but it is Rhodopis, the woman whom Artemis transforms into a spring after Rhodopis submits to Aphrodite, who controls the water level that renders the verdict on Meliteâs sexual abstinence (8.12). 74 Lévi-Strauss 1963, 61. This analysis is predicated on a heteronormative construction of marriage, which is no longer a valid assumption in todayâs society. I argue, however, that Lévi-Straussâs conceptualization remains relevant to the patriarchal norms of the Roman world, which both legally and socially defined marriage as between a man and a woman and subordinated women to either the potestas of a man or the authority of a male guardian. 38 Straussâs conjecture to the notion of virginity within the Greek novel, Haynes suggests that âthe closed body of the chaste woman may come to signify or embody the cultural integrity of a particular social group.â75 Specifically, they can challenge the normative institution of marriage as âa reassuring microcosm of the social order.â76 Taken in light of the reversal of masculine and feminine rolesâLeucippeâs rhetorical ability to extricate herself from dangerous situations in contrast with Clitophonâs passive acceptance of Thersanderâs physical attacksâHaynes argues that this subversion of normative gender patterns can be read as âa veiled challenge to Imperial might and ambition.â77 I contend that the close association of virginity with Artemis and her cult at Ephesus simultaneously elevate the place of Greek mythology and tradition under Roman imperium and question the authority of patriarchal Roman ideals. Such is not to say that Achilles Tatius was writing a feminist narrativeâindeed, scholars such as Morales have argued that âsexuality in the Greek novels typically operates to control womenââor that he intended for his (assumedly Greek) audience to view Leucippeâs protection of her virginity as a call to protect their own Greek roots.78 Instead, I am suggesting that through her Panhellenic connection with virginity in her mythology, Artemis and her cult at Ephesus are portrayed as symbols of Greek myth and tradition. Within the framing of virginity as a product of the negotiation for social agency between men and women over sex, Achilles Tatius also negotiates space for this Greek myth and tradition to coexist alongside and present alternatives to the social and cultural elements of Roman imperium. This process of mediation can be seen in his treatment of marriage, an important instrument of Roman hegemony, in his novel. 75 Haynes 2002, 74. 76 Ibid., 80. 77 Ibid., 87. 78 Morales 2008, 54. 39 Though marriage was not a uniquely Roman institution, the power of the paterfamilias, as the head of the nuclear social unit, was a key element of a Roman civil order whose historical roots extended far back into the moral ideal of the Republic. Augustusâs subsequent marriage reforms of 18â17 BCE both further cemented marriage as a crucial aspect of his reconceptualization of Romeâs social fabric under empire and served as a symbolic example of the ability of Roman imperial power to reshape the private sphere. As J.A. Crook suggests, marriages as a result of the Augustan reforms were âsteadier amongst the upper class,â due in no small part to the fact that punishments for adultery increased.79 The specific restrictions placed on the sexual agency of women, who under Augustus were now capable of instigating adultery and on account of whom their husbands could also be punished for not divorcing an adulteress, materially impacted the ways in which domestic gender dynamics manifested. Though Leucippe and her commitment to her virginity may, at first glance, appear to be an overt validation of the sexually abstinent woman who was loyal to her (intended) husband, Leucippe may alternatively be read as a critique against the stable normativity of Roman marriages. âPerpetual virginity,â Haynes suggests, âis destabilizing,â and it is important to note that while Leucippe and Clitophon do marry at the end of the novel, Achilles Tatius does not explicitly tell his readers that Leucippe has finally had sexual intercourse, though many readers naturally could have assumed that she does.80 But even marriage, if it is meant to be the key resolution to Leucippeâs character arc, brings its own set of questions. Morales, in her rebuttal against Foucaultâs work on sexuality in the ancient novel, points out that it is only through a teleological reading that the novels can be read as a celebration of marriage; yet, Achilles Tatius gives no indication that his readers ought to value the ending 79 Crook 1984, 106. 80 Haynes 2002, 80. 40 over the rest of his narrative.81 Whitmarsh, furthermore, remarks upon the curious puzzle in which the lovers marry and sail to Byzantium together at the conclusion of the narrative, but the text opens with Clitophon alone in Sidon and lamenting that he has âsuffered many blows (á½Î²ÏÎµÎ¹Ï) from love.â82 As such, the assumed telos of Leucippeâs ardent sexual abstinence throughout the entirety of the novelâthat is, married sex with Clitophon exclusivelyâdoes not necessarily remain a reality for the protagonists and thus may not provide any meaningful narrative resolution at all. Whitmarsh concludes, âanticlosurality is not just a formal, literary choice: it also has implications for the identity politics of the romance. Marriage, it implies, is neither the absolute end of the story nor the natural destiny of the human subject.â83 As such, the text calls into question the fundamental ability of marriage, as an institution, to provide social closure in the form of domestic stability. The lack of complete and stable finality with regard to marriage within the novel, I argue, creates space within the work for alternate readings. The more optimistic of readers may choose to believe that Leucippe and Clitophon marry, have sex, and live happily ever after as the ending implies, with a disregard for the puzzling situation in which Clitophon presents himself at the beginning of the novel. Others may choose to read the novel more literally: the text itself does not state that the two lovers ever engage in sexual intercourse, and in light of Clitophonâs despondent state at the beginning of the novel, one must assume that misfortune had somehow befallen the two protagonists in the time between their journey to Byzantium and Clitophonâs appearance in Sidon. As the novel stands, no interpretation is more valid than the other. What is important is that the ultimate question of whether Leucippe remains a 81 Morales 2008, 41. 82 Whitmarsh 2011, 107. ÏÎ±ÏÎ±á½»ÏÎ±Ï á½Î²ÏÎµÎ¹Ï á¼Î¾ á¼ÏÏÏÎ¿Ï ÏÎ±Î¸á½½Î½ (1.2.2). 83 Ibid. 41 perpetual parthenos or a happily married gyne prompts readers to consider the myriad possibilities with which to understand and take the text. The space granted to these multiple interpretations, I suggest, is the same space which Achilles Tatius advocates for Greek tradition and myth to occupy under the hegemonic forces of Roman imperium. Through an analysis of anti-closurality of marriage as an institution, I argue that Achilles Tatius uses the topos of virginity, depicted as a symbol of Greek tradition and myth through Artemis and her cult at Ephesus, to question the validity and authority of an important institution which defined Romeâs social order and helped to enforce its hegemony. By locating the concept of virginity within an extant negotiation of agency between men and women, he does not necessarily advocate for Greek tradition and culture to resist against or overtake Roman imperium, in the same way that his narrative is not an overtly feminist narrative meant to criticize patriarchal paradigms. Just as he presents multiple interpretations to the ending of his novel, Achilles Tatius instead allows for his readers to consider a social landscape in which Roman hegemony is not considered the ultimate telos, a society which gives space to the continued assertion of Greek tradition and culture that coexists, perhaps in tension, with the institutions and changes brought by Roman imperium. The use of virginity to signify both the negotiation of sexual agency between men and women and the assertion of Greek tradition and myth under Roman power allows Achilles Tatius to mirror the mediation of agency that exists across both processes. 42 IV. VIRGINS AS ASYLUM SEEKERS Through its connection with Artemis, a deity whose sacred spaces were associated with refuge throughout the Greek world, Achilles Tatius extends the concept of virginityâs importance beyond the realm of sex into the realm of refuge. Though the topic of asylum at the Artemisium appears only briefly in Achilles Tatiusâs novel, it occupies a significant place in the narrative and provides a key source of protection for Leucippe from sexual assault. The Greek practice of asylum at temples, furthermore, was an issue of contention between various Hellenistic cities and Roman power during the Imperial Period. Given the broad questions regarding the negotiation and continuation of Greek traditions under Roman imperium explored in this thesis and more broadly, scholarship on the Second Sophistic, the subject of asylum comprises a fascinating topic of study. In this chapter, I argue that Achilles Tatiusâs focus on virginity in his treatment of asylum at the Artemisium in his novel advocates for the continued existence of the Greek practice despite Roman anxieties regarding the threat it posed towards civic order. As discussed in the introduction to this thesis, the realm of refuge is a social space in which those with authority exercise power upon those without through the imposition of restrictions; power, in other words, defines who can and cannot seek immunity from the law. Thus, the notion of asylumâa space where legal power is null and voidâcan be viewed as an act of resistance against authority and embodies a negotiation of agency between power and asylum seekers. As such, asylum is simultaneously a specific, tangible point of social and legal tension between Greek tradition and Roman power as well as an abstracted site for the mediation of social agency between those with authority and those without. Achilles Tatius, I argue, draws upon both of these understandings of the topic. By portraying asylum in a positive light through its 43 ability to grant refuge to virgins seeking protection, he both promotes the importance and value of a specific Greek practice and advocates for the continued existence of Greek traditions through literal and metaphorical negotiations with Roman power. I begin my argument by providing historical context regarding the Ephesian appeal for the continued practice of asylum at the Artemisium to the Roman Senate in 22 CE. In doing so, I outline both the way in which the Ephesians justified their request for an exemption to Roman legal standards based on their cityâs connection to Artemis and the Roman anxieties that accompanied these quests for asylum. I then proceed to an analysis of Achilles Tatiusâs depiction of the topic within his novel, with a particular focus on the narrative purpose of asylum at the Artemisium and the ways in which the author recalls within his narrative the same debate taking place between the Ephesians and the Roman Senate. Finally, I discuss how Achilles Tatiusâs portrayal of asylum and its ability to provide refuge for virgins both advocates for the continued practice of the tradition, against the anxieties of the Romans, and can be read as a broader assertion for Greek tradition to negotiate space for itself to coexist alongside Roman social and cultural hegemony. IV.1 Asylum at Ephesus in the Roman Period The notion of ancient Greco-Roman asylum, Kent J. Rigsby suggests, stemmed from the belief that certain places associated with the divine (in many cases, temples) were under the jurisdiction of the gods and thus were not subject to the rules and laws of mortals. This conviction was especially significant in the ancient Greek world, where anyone who entered a temple or clasped an altar was considered immune from human violence. Though the Romans had recognized the possibility that certain spaces could be considered sacrosanct, the practice 44 was not nearly as widespread; only one or two temples could claim the right of inviolability.84 As such, the practice of asylum at Greek temples came under scrutiny as Rome expanded its imperium into the Hellenistic world and encountered existing traditions that challenged the order that its institutions and structures sought to create. Scholars know relatively little concerning the specific criteria with which the Romans either granted or denied the right of asylum, but we do know that certain requests for the persistence of the practice were allowed. One of the most informative sources that survives on the topic is a passage from Tacitus, in which he describes a meeting of the Roman Senate in 22 CE when several delegations of Greek cities arrived to advocate for the continuation of asylum at their local temples. Ephesus, in a bid for the inviolability of their Artemisium, was one of these cities. Tacitus describes their appeal to Rome: First of all the Ephesians approached, and they recounted that Diana and Apollo had not been born at Delos, as the public believed: there was, within their territory, the Cenchreus stream and the grove of Ortygia, where a heavily pregnant Latona leaned upon an olive tree (which still stood at that time), and gave birth to those deities, and by the command of the gods the forest was consecrated. And there, Apollo himself, after he had killed Cyclopes, had evaded the wrath of Jove. Then Father Liber, who was victorious in war, had pardoned the Amazonian suppliants who had seized the altar. Thereafter, by the concession of Hercules when he reigned over Lydia, the ceremony at the temple was augmented, nor was the right diminished under the authority of the Persians; after, the Macedonians and then we had protected it. Primi omnium Ephesii adiere, memorantes non, ut vulgus crederet, Dianam atque Apollinem Delo genitos: esse apud se Cenchreum amnem, lucum Ortygiam, ubi Latonam partu gravidam et oleae, quae tum etiam maneat, adnisam edidisse ea numina, deorumque monitu sacratum nemus, atque ipsum illic Apollinem post interfectos Cyclopas Iovis iram vitavisse. mox Liberum patrem, bello victorem, supplicibus Amazonum quae aram insiderant ignovisse. auctam hinc concessu Herculis, cum Lydia poteretur, caerimoniam templo neque Persarum dicione deminutum ius; post Macedonas, dein nos servavisse. (Tac. Ann. 3.61) 84 Rigsby 1996, 2. 45 Tacitus dedicates a total of three sections to his discussion of this senatorial review, but it is the Ephesians to whom he gives the most attention. Indeed, Strabo details a history of Roman interference with asylum rules at the Ephesian Artemisium; though the temple always remained a place of refuge, the spatial limits of its jurisdiction changed. Mark Antony, Strabo tells us, doubled the distance and included part of the city within the bounds of inviolability, but soon thereafter âthis extension proved harmful (Î²Î»Î±Î²ÎµÏá½¸Î½) and turned the city over to the criminals (ÏÎ¿á¿Ï ÎºÎ±ÎºÎ¿ÏÏÎ³Î¿Î¹Ï), so Augustus Caesar nullified it.â85 Tacitus references the same fears of lawlessness when he explains the impetus behind the senatorial review: âthe temples [in Greek cities] were filling up with the worst slaves (pessimis servitiorum); likewise they admitted for protection those indebted to creditors and those suspected of capital offenses.â86 As such, Rigsby has suggested that it was the particular case of asylum at Ephesus and its resulting threat on law and order that may have set the precedent for Rome to hear and either grant or deny these appeals for asylum.87 Though no existing primary sources explicitly indicate that Tiberius had Ephesus in mind when he tasked the Senate to receive these delegations from cities, it is clear that the specific fears referenced by Strabo in his discussion of Ephesus described, more broadly, how Roman power viewed the notion of territorial inviolability at Greek temples as a possible danger to the public order and their legal hegemony. It is important to note here that, although the concept of asylum can be viewed as an avenue of resistance against legal power, the assertion of asylum rights by the various 85 á¼ÏÎ¬Î½Î· δὲ ÏÎ¿á¿¦ÏÎ¿ Î²Î»Î±Î²ÎµÏá½¸Î½ καὶ á¼Ïá½¶ ÏÎ¿á¿Ï ÎºÎ±ÎºÎ¿ÏÏÎ³Î¿Î¹Ï ÏÎ¿Î¹Î¿á¿¦Î½ Ïá½´Î½ ÏÏÎ»Î¹Î½, á½¥ÏÏá¾½ á¼ ÎºÏÏÏÏÎµÎ½ á½ Î£ÎµÎ²Î±ÏÏá½¸Ï ÎÎ±á¿ÏÎ±Ï (Strab. Geography 14.1.23). 86 complebantur templa pessimis servitiorum; eodem subsidio obaerati adversum creditores suspectique capitalium criminum receptabantur (Tac. Ann. 3.60) 87 Rigsby 1996, 28. 46 delegations of Greek cities in this particular case was by no means construed solely as active resistance against Rome. Greek states began declaring their spaces to be âinviolableâ in the Hellenistic period, and Rigsby argues that the rise of these grants within the Hellenistic age grew out of an effort to limit war during a violent and politically unstable period of Greek interstate relations. The peace that came with Roman imperium rendered new declarations unnecessary, thereby accounting for the fact that no new claims to asylum were made and confirmed under Roman rule.88 The privileges of asylum in the Hellenistic period, additionally, came with other perks that granted further prestige: in the Aegean area, for example, Panhellenic games were often linked with the recognition of asylum.89 These rights of sacred inviolability were thus a source of local pride that augmented the status of a particular city over that of its neighbors; as such, declarations of asylum held both social and political meaning in the Greek world outside the context of Roman hegemony. In the specific case of the Artemisium, which Aelius Aristides calls âthe common bank of Asia,â the inviolability granted by asylum would have ensured the safety of monetary deposits at the sanctuaryâand thus enticed others to entrust the temple with their own wealth.90 There were benefits to the assertion and continuation of asylum for Greek cities that had very little to do with Rome at all. Despite the fact that a particular Greek cityâs appeal for asylum may have been due to myriad reasons, these appeals were nevertheless being made to the Roman Senate in 22. In order to present a successful case for asylum, then, a city had to convince Rome that its history of asylum was important enough to warrant a reduction of Roman power in its territory. Some cities accomplished this task by emphasizing their previous history with the Romans. The 88 Ibid., 5, 29. 89 For a fuller discussion of the honors that accompanied grants of asylia, see Rigsby 1996, 22â26. 90 ÏÎ±Î¼Îµá¿ÏÎ½ ÏÎµ κοινὸν Ïá¿Ï á¼ÏÎ¯Î±Ï (Îel. Ar. Orat. 23.24). 47 Magnesians, for example, cited ordinances from Scipio Asiaticus and Sulla that their refuge of Diana Leucophyrena remain inviolable, while the Aphrodisians and Stratonicensians pointed to decrees from Julius and Augustus Caesar, respectively, for past loyalty during conflicts. Hierocaesarea and Cyprus, like Ephesus, allude to their non-Roman histories, but Tacitus does not describe their appeals with the same detail that he does the Ephesiansâs.91 It is clear that Ephesus alone among the Greek cities made a case to the Senate compelling enough that Tacitus found it worthy of inclusion at length in his Annals. Indeed, Tacitusâs attention to their case, as well as the epigraphic evidence indicating that the practice of asylum at the Artemisium did continue through the Imperial period, demonstrate the efficacy of their strategy.92 Regardless of whether the Ephesian delegation saw themselves as consciously asserting their mythological identity against imperium, or whether they were simply making the strongest appeal they could to ensure the steady flow of cash to their temple, it is clear how one could interpret the case of Ephesusâs asylum as a symbolic instance in which Roman hegemony acknowledged and capitulated to Greek tradition. The abstracted nature of asylum itself, as previously discussed, further emphasizes the theme of a challenge againstâor at the very least, a negotiation withâpower by the marginalized. As such, I argue that this notion of temple inviolability serves as a particularly important theme in Leucippe and Clitophon, despite the fact that it occupies relatively little space within the overarching narrative. As I demonstrate in the section below, Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of the issue subtly alludes to the same Roman anxieties presented by Tacitus and Strabo, but the narrative function of asylum within his novelâs plot and the way in which Achilles Tatius emphasizes its ability to provide protection to virgins ultimately advocates for the continuation of the tradition. 91 Tac. Ann. 3.62. 92 I.Eph Ia 18.b.2â3 48 IV.2. Asylum at Ephesus in Leucippe and Clitophon Asylum at the Artemisium is first introduced in Book 7, when Leucippe escapes the hut where Sosthenes was keeping her and seeks refuge at the nearby temple of Artemis.93 The rules of refuge, as Clitophon describes them, state that entry to the temple had been forbidden to free women (gyne) who have had sex. In other words, only (a) men, (b) free female virgins, or (c) enslaved women who have had sexual intercourse but hold a legal complaint against their master were allowed to seek the protection of the sanctuary. While Leucippe manages to escape future assault by Sosthenes and Thersander, her flight to the temple creates another problem: it is unclear under what condition she was able to claim her refuge. She is either, as she and Clitophon insist, a free virgin from an elite family, or she is, as Thersander claims, a slave. The readers know Thersanderâs claim to be false, but her presentation at this point in the novelââbound with thick stockings [â¦] her head shaved, her body filthy, clothed in an altogether wretched chitonââobscures her true identity to other characters.94 A test of virginity must be administered in order to determine the veracity of the competing claims. This test of Leucippeâs virginity is the final hurdle whose resolution leads to the reunion of Leucippe and Clitophon and their reintegration into elite society. As various scholars have remarked previously, a restoration of the rightful social order is an important element in the denouement of the Greek novel; the Ephesiaca, for example, concludes with the reunion of Anthia and Habrocomes in Ephesus, where they first began their journey at the beginning of the novel.95 The finality of this last episode in Achilles Tatius is especially notable, given that 93 Ach. Tat. 7.13. 94 ÏÎ¿á½·Î½Î¹Î¾Î¹ ÏÎ±ÏÎµá½·Î±Î¹Ï δεδεμένη [â¦] Ïá½´Î½ ÎºÎµÏÎ±Î»á½´Î½ ÎºÎµÎºÎ±ÏÎ¼á½³Î½Î·, á¼ÏÏÏ ÏÏÎ¼á½³Î½Î· Ïá½¸ Ïá¿¶Î¼Î±, ÏÎ¹Ïá¿¶Î½Î± á¼Î½ÎµÎ¶ÏÏÎ¼á½³Î½Î· á¼Î¸Î»Î¹Î¿Î½ Ïá½±Î½Ï (5.17.3). One must also imagine that she would be bearing the marks from Thersanderâs physical assault, which occurred just prior to her flight to the temple. The signs of physical abuse would furthermore mark her as an enslaved person. 95 For example, Whitmarsh 2011, 177. 49 Leucippe and Clitophon had previously been reunited and then separated again at various points earlier in the narrative.96 It is thus only in this final instance of their reunion, in which they are also confirmed to be members of the elite, that they are able to marry and return safely to Byzantium without further threats upon their safety and status.97 In this sense, the topos of asylum serves as a necessary precursor to the revelation of Leucippeâs true identity by presenting the two competing possibilities of her character either as a free virgin or an enslaved non-virgin. In addition to serving as a key narrative device in the development of the novelâs plot, asylum appears on one other occasion. Though Rome does not overtly feature in Achilles Tatiusâs novel, we can hear echoes of Strabo, Tacitus, and by extension, the Roman Senateâs fears regarding the possibility of Greek asylum serving as a haven for criminals. When Thersander assaults Clitophon at the beginning of Book 8 at the temple of Artemis, the latter cries out, âand while the protections of the sanctuary give refuge to the wicked (ÏÎ¿Î½Î·ÏÎ¿á¿Ï), I, having done no wrong, who have become a suppliant of Artemis (á¼±Îºá½³ÏÎ·Ï δὲ Ïá¿Ï á¼ÏÏá½³Î¼Î¹Î´Î¿Ï), am struck next to her own altar!â98 Thomas suggests that this reference to the butchering of suppliants under the protection of asylum would have been a common topos for Achilles 96 For example, 3.17, when Leucippe is revealed to have survived her apparent human sacrifice and is briefly with Clitophon before she appears to be decapitated before his eyes (5.7). 97 It is important to note that, unlike Leucippe, Clitophon does not undergo any trials or otherwise prove in any way that he is of elite status. Though he is never enslaved in the same way as Leucippe, he is thrown into prison on a charge of adultery (6.5â6) and subsequently slandered to be an adulterer with Artemis, a virgin, in her own temple (8.8). His charges are cleared and his good name restored when Melite passes her trial of abstinence, but he does not need to act on behalf of himself in order to do so. 98 καὶ ÏÎ¿á¿Ï μὲν ÏÎ¿Î½Î·ÏÎ¿á¿Ï αἱ Ïá¿¶Î½ á¼±ÎµÏá¿¶Î½ á¼ÏÏá½±Î»ÎµÎ¹Î±Î¹ Î´Î¹Î´á½¹Î±ÏÎ¹ ÎºÎ±ÏÎ±ÏÏ γήν, á¼Î³á½¼ δὲ μηδένα á¼Î´Î¹Îºá½µÏÎ±Ï, á¼±Îºá½³ÏÎ·Ï δὲ Ïá¿Ï á¼ÏÏá½³Î¼Î¹Î´Î¿Ï Î³ÎµÎ½á½¹Î¼ÎµÎ½Î¿Ï, Ïá½»ÏÏÎ¿Î¼Î±Î¹ ÏÎ±Ïá¾¿ Î±á½Ïá¿· Ïá¿· Î²ÏÎ¼á¿· (Ach. Tat. 8.2.2). I have opted for the most literal translation of ÏÎ¿Î½Î·ÏÎ¿á¿Ï as âwicked,â but Whitmarsh chooses to translate this word directly as âcriminalsâ (2001, 126). 50 Tatiusâs audience to recognize, and that it would have imbued his narrative with a âspecifically Ephesian flavorâ given the various stories that concerned violence at the Artemisium.99 I argue, additionally, that Clitophonâs reference to the abuse of asylum rights by evil-doers can be read as an oblique reference to the anxieties of the Roman Senate. There is no knowing, of course, whether these concerns at Rome would have been widely circulated throughout the empire, but the possibility is by no means outrageous, especially given the fact that various delegations from Greek cities had been called to defend their rights to asylum before the Senate in 22. The combined effect of Clitophonâs accusation against Thersander thus creates a twofold reminder of the significance of asylum to Greek and specifically Ephesian identity: not only does it recall the (albeit grisly) history of suppliants at the temple of Artemis, but it does so framed by general Roman anxieties regarding notions of inviolability. The references to asylum, as I have demonstrated above, are relatively few in comparison to some of the other themes that appear within Leucippe and Clitophon. Even within these limited moments, however, Achilles Tatius implicitly provides both sides of a debate with which his readers under the Roman Empire could very well have been familiar. As such, the important position that refuge occupies within the narrative arc of the novel, as well as the subtle reference to Roman anxieties concerning the potential lawlessness that could result from temple inviolability, delineate it as an important theme for close study. As I discuss in the following section, Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of the issue in his novel, his emphasis on asylumâs ability to protect vulnerable populations, and his reinterpretation of the significance 99 Thomas 2004, 104. Appian, for example, discusses an episode in which Mithridates slaughtered the Roman settlers of Ephesus at Artemisâs altar (Mith. 4.23). Athenaeus, similarly, describes the story of Irene, Ptolemyâs courtesan, who was killed alongside Ptolemy by the Thracians at the temple of Artemis and splashed her blood on the altar as she died (13.64). 51 of Ephesusâs successful bid for continued asylum at the Artemisium can be read as a validation of Greek tradition despite Roman concerns. IV.3. Continuing Greek Traditions under Roman Imperium Although Achilles Tatius both grants the practice of Greek asylum a place within his novel and makes reference to the anxieties that Roman power held regarding the threat asylum posed to the civic order, his treatment of these two passages within his novel differ greatly. First, I suggest that the importance of asylum to Leucippeâs character arc may be read as a clear refutation of Roman anxieties regarding the tradition of Greek sanctuaries. The vulnerable populations who seek the protection of Artemis, as described in the novel, contrast with the sorts of unsavory characters whom Tacitus and Strabo claim are taking refuge at Greek temples. Rather than the worst enslaved persons or those committing financial fraud or capital offenses, it is people like Leucippe, Achilles Tatiusâs courageous and ill-fated virgin heroine, who enter it with the hopes of escaping abusers like Sosthenes and Thersander. Even the enslaved persons who do enter, furthermore, are those who are bringing a charge (á¼Î³ÎºÎ±Î»Î¿á¿¦ÏÎ±) against their mastersâthat is, those themselves are the abused rather than the abusers of inviolability. Far from being a haven for criminals, asylum, as depicted by Achilles Tatius, is a place where legitimately vulnerable people are able to seek protections from those who wish to harm them.100 The narrative significance of the Artemisiumâs inviolability, additionally, portrays this practice of asylum in a positive light for Achilles Tatiusâs readers, for it is only through the templeâs sacrosanctity that the protagonist is able to evade her attackers entirely. The 100 7.13.3. 52 Artemisiumâs key role in setting Leucippe up to be revealed as a free virgin, rather than an enslaved woman having had prior intercourse, is critically important. With the word of Clitophon and her father vouching for her status against that of Thersander and Sosthenes, Leucippe had needed a literal deus ex machina to help prove that she was indeed who she claimed to be. It is only through the unique rules of Artemisâs protection at her asylum, as described by Achilles Tatius, that Leucippe is given the opening to prove her identity definitively. In other words, seeking shelter from Thersander and Sosthenes in an abandoned, hidden hut in the woods would not have provided the same narrative impetus that shelter at the Artemisium brought. It is specifically the rules of asylum, ones which introduce to significant characters the possibility that Leucippe was indeed a free virgin who was wrongfully enslaved, that finally allow the plot of the novel to resolve once and for all. In contrast to his positive portrayal and use of asylum within his narrative, Achilles Tatius casts doubt upon his reference to the anxieties of Roman power regarding the issue. Clitophon, at the point at which he is assaulted in Artemisâs temple at the end of the novel, has long been established to be somewhat limited and problematic in his narration. As William M. Owens has argued, Clitophonâs perspective is both ââcharacter-defined,â that is, limited to his first-person point of viewâ and more importantly, ââcharacter-defining,â that is, indicating Clitophonâs limitations as a person.â He is characterized as âself-absorbed, blind to others, [â¦and] blind to himself.â101 Indeed, it was only slightly prior to his encounter with Thersander in the temple that Clitophon had rashly attempted to commit suicide, against the counsel of his much more rational friend Clinias upon hearing false news of Leucippeâs alleged death.102 As such, I suggest that Clitophonâs words claiming that the wicked seek refuge at the Artemisium 101 Owens 2019, 153â154. 102 7.6.3â5. 53 function primarily as an instance of characterization in which his passivity and dramatic flair contrast with Leucippeâs own courageous defiance against physical assault.103 Moreover, the dubious character of Clitophon, as the speaker of the accusations against asylum, casts a similar cloud of doubt over the validity of his words. Such a treatment of this reference to Roman anxieties regarding temple inviolability stands in sharp contrast to the narrative importance that Achilles Tatius grants to his depiction of the Artemisiumâs asylum and the protection it grants to virgins. One cannot say, of course, that this treatment of asylum in Leucippe and Clitophon is more valid than that in Tacitusâs Annals. Without further evidence, it is impossible for historians to determine whether asylum at the Artemisium and elsewhere in the Greek world was abused in the way that the Romans claimed it had been. An equally important and interesting line of inquiry, I suggest, is the way in which Achilles Tatius makes use of this particular issue within his novel to communicate a broader stance on the place of Greek tradition under Roman power. Rather than choosing to depict it as a haven for criminals, Achilles Tatius makes a conscious choice to portray refuge at the Artemisium as a place of safety and protection, one which opens its doors to free virgins seeking shelter from their abusers. This temple inviolability, as Achilles Tatius employs it within his narrative, is an essential device that both saves his heroine from physical and sexual assault and drives his plot forth towards a final resolution. Indeed, the rules of refuge in Achilles Tatiusâs novel seem to be constructed exactly so that they would provide the proper setup for Leucippeâs big identity revealâmeaning that it is certainly a possibility that the author framed the rules to fit the constraints of his narrative.104 As such, I argue that this very deliberate and particular 103 Most notably, 6.21.1â2. 104 Some scholars have cited Achilles Tatius as a historical source on how asylum at the 54 construction of asylum within Leucippe and Clitophon both responds to Roman anxieties and in doing so, negotiates space for Greek tradition to continue existing under Roman imperium. The first point to note is that Achilles Tatiusâs description of asylum at the Artemisium looks nothing like what the Ephesians had presented the Roman Senate according to Tacitusâs account. While the Ephesians emphasized their cityâs connection with Artemisâs birth myth and a long history of refuge that included the Amazons, Achilles Tatius chooses to focus, instead, on the conditions defining which suppliants were and were not allowed to enter the sanctuary. Rather than discussing the specifically Ephesian connection with Artemisâs birth or referencing various events throughout the history of the region and its rulers, the author emphasizes Artemisâs general connection with virgins and virginity in his stipulation that only free virgins could claim refuge. As I discussed extensively in the second chapter, Achilles Tatiusâs prioritization of Artemisâs association with virginity evokes a more Panhellenic manifestation of the goddess, but does so at the expense of her more localized, Anatolian elements. His treatment of her asylum at the Artemisium thus follows a similar pattern of constructing a generalized Greek portrayal of Artemis. This Panhellenic depiction of refuge at the Artemisium, I argue, would have resonated with (hypothetically more Rome-friendly) members of his audience and perhaps made the concept of asylum more palatable to Roman power. I have already noted above that the singular beneficiary of asylum in the novel is Leucippe, a woman who flees to the sanctuary in order to escape sexual assault and bodily harm. The question that her refuge at the Artemisium ultimately presentsâwhether she is a free virgin or an enslaved woman bringing a charge Artemisium functioned. In light of my argument that Achilles Tatius constructs a very specific version of temple inviolability at Ephesus to fit the requirements of his narrative, I contend that his description ought to be read within its narrative context, as a device meant to advance a particular plot, rather than taken as reliable historical fact. 55 against her masterâdraws readersâs attentions to two vulnerable populations that asylum serves which, more or less, can be assumed to have little overlap with the criminals and enslaved troublemakers to whom Strabo and Tacitus had alluded. By presenting the Artemisiumâs inviolability in a way that is closely tied with the safety and protection of virgins, Achilles Tatius directly challenges Roman fears regarding the lawlessness that asylum could bring. A Panhellenic portrayal of asylum, furthermore, may have been more appealing to Roman sentiments. Simon Swain, in his analysis of Roman attitudes towards expressions of Hellenism that hearkened to the past, suggests that âRomans had been nursed on Greek literature and tradition [â¦] They came to Greece as philhellenes, not to admire what they found there passively and uncritically, but to shape it according to their pre-existing idea of what Greece was.â105 Within this interpretation, one can see how a more generalized and Panhellenic framing of asylum at the Artemisium may have been influenced by Roman inclinations and better received by those who held reservations regarding the tradition. Indeed, by elevating connections to Artemisâs Panhellenic mythology rather than her particular associations with Ephesus and Anatolia, Achilles Tatius reinterprets an existing practice to reflect Roman attitudes. This process of aligning individual expressions and actions with broader idealistic paradigms is not unique to literature: Carlos F. Noreña, in his study of imperial symbols and emperor worship, argues that their production and rise in local contexts was âlargely spontaneous and the result of local initiative, though preliminary stages usually involved some sort of negotiations between the local or provincial community and the central authorities.â Though these images and practices aligned with and reproduced the agendas of imperial Rome, 105 Swain 1996, 66. 56 they also âserved to reinforce the power, authority, and status of the different actors who undertook to produce them.â106 I argue that Achilles Tatiusâs treatment of asylum at the Artemisium can also be interpreted within this framework. Much like the agents who reinforced their local authority with expressions of Roman imperium, thereby propagating imperial ideals while also augmenting their influence within their own regions, so too can Achilles Tatiusâs representation of asylum appeal to multiple audiences. By tying the history of Artemisâs temple inviolability at Ephesus to the goddessâs generalized Greek mythology and association with virginity, the author reinterprets the tradition to reflect a Roman veneration of the Greek past, while still allowing an important Ephesian tradition and expression of identity to remain under imperium. In doing so, Achilles Tatius mirrors the same process of negotiation embodied in the realm of refuge to create an alternate manifestation of Artemisâs asylum, one which reflects the changing social landscape and is the product of a discourse between past Greek traditions and contemporary Roman attitudes and hegemonic ideals. 106 Noreña 2011, 216â7. 57 V. CONCLUSION Through its analysis of the cult of Artemis Ephesia in Achilles Tatiusâs Leucippe and Clitophon, this thesis has argued for an understanding of Greek tradition during the Second Sophistic framed as a reconciliation with power. In particular, it has explored the realms of sex and refuge as locations where women and asylum seekers have been able to push back against the constraints set by those with authority and, in part, reclaim their own agencies. The place of Greek tradition under Roman rule, I suggest, can be viewed similarly: much as the sites of sex and refuge were spaces in which the marginalized were able to negotiate space for themselves against power, so too did Achilles Tatius advocate space for the coexistence of Greek myths, practices, and histories alongside Roman imperium. By portraying the cult of Artemis Ephesia in a more Panhellenic rather than Anatolian guise, he creates an intimate connection between the goddess and her mythological association with female virgins within his novel. In doing so, he utilizes the concept of virginity as a metaphor for both the marginalized populations which struggle against power and the means by which they are able to undermine their own oppression. Though this thesis has focused on processes of negotiation and give-and-take with authority, it is important to remember two points: first, power is not distributed equally. Throughout my argumentation, I have framed these discourses as two-sided, but one must keep in mind that the parties do not stand on equal footing. While the realms of sex and refuge are two places where the marginalized may vie for space, the outcomes are often still stacked in favor of those with power. Women who are reclaiming their sexual agency, for example, often can only do so without notice from men; even today, women suffer both emotional abuse and physical endangerment at the hands of men when they are perceived to have acted in a sexually 58 inappropriate manner. Places of asylum can only provide refuge to the asylum seekers if they are recognized by those with authority to be sacrosanct. The possibility for power to violate the protections of asylum remains ever-present. This uneven distribution in power, likewise, can also be seen in the ways that Greek tradition negotiated space under Roman imperium. As shown by Achilles Tatiusâs representations of Artemisâs relationship with virginity and the form of her asylum, existing traditions in the Hellenistic world could be made more palatable to Roman sensibilities and compliant with Roman values by playing up their Panhellenic roots at the expense of their local elements. The perpetuation of these traditions, in this way, continues to affirm Roman cultural hegemony while simultaneously preserving customs of the pre-Roman past. Second, it is crucial to note that we cannot read Achilles Tatius as a feminist or progressive author. Though he engages with themes of marginalization and, at certain moments, grants his heroine both agency and desire, he continues to affirm patriarchal and exploitative systems throughout his novel. Leucippe, for example, rebuffs the advances of all the men who desire to sleep with her, including Clitophon, but she is under constant threat of danger and suffers many instances of both physical and emotional trauma throughout the course of the novel. Though she ultimately survives and is happily reunited with her lover and father at the end of the narrative, one cannot disregard the fact that a female protagonistâs suffering was constructed and depicted solely in order to entertain readers and provide dramatic effect in ways that the male protagonistâs was not. The novelâs fixation on the question of her virginity as the primary driver of its narrative, furthermore, implicitly affirms that a womanâs sexual status comprises her defining quality and is information that ought to be publicized to the men around her. At the same time that he utilizes virginity, as an abstract concept, to 59 critique patriarchal institutions such as heterosexual marriage, Achilles Tatius gives little regard or sympathy to the vulnerable and oppressed condition of the virgins themselvesâyoung women whose political and economic statuses rested solely upon their sexual histories. Similarly, Achilles Tatiusâs special extension of Artemisâs protections at her temple to certain enslaved peoples acknowledges them as populations who are particularly sensitive to abuses of power. In doing so, however, he also affirms extant structures of slavery and the implicit assumption that those who are enslaved cannot be sexually pure in the same way that free people can. Third, we must remember that not all marginalizations are the same. While it may be tempting to split categorically the Roman world into those who wielded imperium and those who were subjected to it, the reality is far more nuanced. Many, perhaps those like Achilles Tatius himself, may have suffered a form of marginalization due to the fact that they had not been born into an elite Roman family, but they may, in turn, have benefitted from the ways in which imperium solidified their local power and used it to oppress other groups. We also cannot discount the ways in which multiple axes of identity intersect to create unique oppressions at their junctions.107 A (presumably) elite male intellectual such as Achilles Tatius may have been marginalized in some ways by Roman hegemony, but that marginalization is not the same as the marginalization that a woman of non-Roman heritage, an enslaved person (or indeed, an enslaved woman of non-Roman heritage) would have faced. As such, it is important to remember that, while Achilles Tatius utilizes the realms of sex and refuge as metaphors to 107 The notion that different axes of identity and oppression intersect was coined intersectionality by Kimberlé Crenshaw in her seminal work on the unique violence enacted against women of color, specifically black women (1991). It is important to credit Crenshaw with this powerful framework, but it is also important to recognize that the appropriation of this paradigm cannot eclipse its unique importance to the movement of black feminism. 60 mirror the process of self-positioning under Roman imperium, direct comparisons cannot and should not be drawn between the ways in which Roman power materially affected the lived experiences of various groups. Despite these stipulations, I maintain that a critical reading of Achilles Tatius has much to offer, especially given how little we know about the author and the background surrounding the composition of Leucippe and Clitophon. If nothing else, an understanding of the text focused on the ways in which (Roman and non-Roman) power operates on and perpetuates itself through marginalized groups can provide one interpretation that situates it within contemporary issues and social processes. Such a reading allows scholars to remember that history itself must be approached intersectionally: scholars of the Second Sophistic cannot necessarily separate questions of ethnicity and heritage from those of gender, sexuality, and class. But perhaps even more importantly, a critical analysis framed within negotiations of agency allows us to read against traditional, patriarchal modes of thinking which have long dominated the study of ancient literature. As Alice Jardine wrote in her treatise on the concept of woman, there exist spaces in texts âover which the narrative has lost control,â which can be âcoded as feminine or woman,â and it is these spaces to which we should pay heed in our readings and analyses.108 Though we may never recreate the lived experiences of women due to the nature of surviving evidence from the ancient world, we cannot allow our literary evidence, heavily skewed towards elite, intellectual male perspectives, to obscure the agency of women and other marginalized groups. Indeed, as Katherine Shaner reminds readers in her analysis of the Salutaris inscription at Ephesus, âthe rhetoric at work in [the production of archaeological materials] attempts to persuade both ancient people and contemporary 108 Jardine 1986, 25. 61 interpreters that kyriarchal structures are inevitable rather than continually reinforced.â109 Much as C. Vibius Salutaris reinterpreted local traditions from Ephesus for the purpose of his own self-positioning as a Roman in Asia Minor, so too do ancient authors appropriate the struggles of vulnerable populations for their own objectives within their texts. It is thus up to those of us who study these narratives to remember that even when the struggles of vulnerable populations are acknowledged, their depiction and use ultimately still serve an elite male discourse complicit in the continued, conscious oppression of all subaltern identities and their intersections. 109 Shaner 2018, 4. The kyriarchy, a term first coined by Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, can be defined as âcomprehensive, interlocking, hierarchically ordered structures of discriminationâ that define the relationships of central male householder to his wife, children, and slaves beyond the singular axis of gender (Schüssler Fiorenza 1999, ix). 62 Bibliography Achilles Tatius. Leucippe and Clitophon. Translated by S. Gaselee. 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Thesis/Dissertation
eng
Ancient Culture, Religion and Ethnicity
Vancouver : University of British Columbia Library
Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International
Graduate
Virginity as metaphor : reconciling tradition and imperium in Achilles Tatius
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