Archive for the ‘wedding song’ Category

My Big Fat (Ancient) Greek Wedding

June 13, 2011

It’s been another of those mad fortnights (there’s a surprise). In addition to lecture writing, tutorial prep, and marking, last week I headed out beyond the ring road – and out of my comfort zone – to give a talk on my work at the St Leonards-Mayfield School near Tunbridge Wells. This is the second one of these I’ve done (the first was at the King’s School, Worcester), but I’m a firm believer in Widening Participation so when I came to Oxford, I immediately joined the roll of names kept by the Outreach office to give to schools at times like this.

The school was lovely and the teachers welcoming, though the occasion not what I’d expected. Usually talks get given to an after-school Classics club; this was essentially a teacher training day for staff from local schools and my slot seemed to be the plenary lecture (gulp!). Suddenly my 12-certificate, toned-down schoolgirl version of what I work on seemed inadequate – there was an extempore ramping up of the bloody, violent elements of the Iphigenia story, and a few jokes about olisboi thrown in, but nothing (hopefully) that would see me lynched by a mob of angry parents, given that some students were in the audience. It seemed to go down well, however.

Ancient marriage is a difficult subject for a 1-hour talk – there is such a diversity of practice, and also such differing perspectives depending on the source. I usually stick to the Classical evidence with a bit of Sappho and some vase-painting, and leave the question time to explore the nuances of such a fundamental social and personal ritual.

Sneaky sneaky research

May 26, 2010

With apologies to Jane and Gordon for not posting in awhile…I didn’t realise I had a fan base!

Actual ‘work’ work (in the sense of research) has been on and off of late. I got a good chunk done of one paper over Christmas and some of another during the Easter break, but since then it has been non-stop marking and job applications – I hope to sneak some work in tomorrow, before the next set of exam papers come in, on the article that demands my attention most.

This discussion returns to my thesis topic of wedding songs, and looks at the 3rd Stasimon (choral ode) of Euripides’ play Iphigenia in Aulis. This song describes the marriage of mythical hero/goddess couple, Peleus and Thetis (parents of Achilles) at a moment in the play between Achilles’ decision to marry Iphigenia and save her from sacrifice, and Iphigenia’s realisation that her father Agamemnon really would rather cut her throat in exchange for fair sailing to Troy.

The epithalamial resonances in this ode are in no doubt, but my question is – how do they function here? Critics most often note the contrast between the ‘idealisation’ of the ode and the brutality of the rest of the play. My argument is that the ode isn’t that idealistic – it makes full use of the ironic/foreboding element present in the Greek wedding song to in fact tie the mythical past even more closely to the violent present.

There are linguistic and thematic parallels with Sappho’s wedding narrative of Hector and Andromache (fr. 44), but the Sapphic song can be seen to refer poignantly to the Iliad - in Hector’s death (explicitly connected with his wedding by Homer) and the recovery of his body. So the ‘idealism’ lent by the Sapphic intertext is undermined by that very intertext. Euripides, I argue, employs his own set of Homeric allusions – the foreshadowing of Thetis’ gift of arms to her son at the end of the antistrophe refers directly to that scene in Iliad 18. Even the language is the same.

The scene in the Iliad means that Achilles will re-enter the battle, kill Hector, and die trying to enter Troy. By referring to it here, Euripides predicts the hero’s glory and tragedy – a fate that will itself doom Iphigenia to death. Moreover, if the Euripidean song about Thetis’ wedding refers to Iliad 18, it is probably also meant to recall Thetis’ 1st-person narrative of that marriage in that book – not a joyous occasion blessed by the gods, but a humiliating rape inflicted upon her by those same gods.

There is certainly an ironic contrast present in this ode, but I would stress the ‘ironic’ aspect of that contrast. The Homeric, and even Sapphic, allusions undermine any picture of idealisation the ode presents us with at first glance. By using a polyvalent genre such as the epithalamium, whose double-meanings are culturally ingrained, Euripides produces a song with violent undertones that cannot be divorced from the action of his drama. It ensures Iphigenia will go to her death – a death whose glory is undermined by the rhetoric of the play and questioned by scholars. and if we question the glory of her death, must we also question that of Achilles, which is inextricably linked with it?

When is a Kreuzung not a Kreuzung?

March 21, 2009

OK, I’m guessing a lot of people, unless they have intimate knowledge of genre theory, will have no idea what I mean by that, and even less where I’m going with it.

 

In short, I’m trying to decide what I mean when I call a wedding song a genre of Greek poetry. To reach that conclusion, I have to decide what I mean by ‘genre’. It’s most commonly used of a ‘form’ of poetry or prose: lyric, epic, elegy, bucolic, novel, epistle, etc…a Kreuzung (der Gattungen) is a term coined by Kroll in the 1920s to remark on the hybridisation of genres, particularly in Hellenistic/Roman poetry, that occurs when elements of one form appear in another.

 

Hybrid is an interesting term in itself, as a lot of modern scholarship that follows Kroll (see Barchiesi 2001) explores what kind of metaphors we should use to describe this ‘crossing’, particularly in genetic terms. These days, such crossings are seen as more positive than negative – adding new meanings by adapting old forms, rather than a degeneration of those forms through cross-breeding (mongrels are always more intelligent, etc…)

 

So where on earth does this leave us with the wedding song?

 

I think the main problem is in the question, ‘What is a wedding song?’ (How can we tell?) It’s easy when you have a song obviously performed at a wedding, or a travesty of such. But many of the Greek songs are fragmentary (so we can’t tell), and many use epithalamial imagery to recall a wedding or evoke the scenario without actually being directly connected with that context.

 

Initially, I had followed a different model of genre (Cairns 1972) which defined categorisation in terms of content, rather than form: each genre possesses certain primary elements, usually related to the identities of the speaker and addressee, the relationship between them, and the setting; and secondary topoi or themes. Given the variety of speaker/addressee allocations in the wedding song, I adapted this slightly so that the ‘primary’ elements should be the bride, the bridegroom, and the wedding. Key terms to identify an epithalamium thus became numphê, gambros (or cognate term), and gamos or hymenaios. As for the topoi…well, I have 4 sides of A4 listing the different themes and images used by the epithalamium, and in other ‘epithalamial’ songs: the most popular is natural imagery, but also lamentation, celebration, beauty, praise, invective…the list goes on.

 

This didn’t go down so well in my viva, however. My examiners agreed on the need for classificatory terms, but the problem with Cairns’ model is that it’s anachronistic, and imposes a concept of generic fixity (and timelessness) onto a cultural context that probably didn’t have one.

 

A popular modern perception of genre is that you only really need the concept in a literate culture which analyses and categorises its own literature as a scholarly exercise. Thus, in archaic Greece, a mostly-illiterate society, would they have known such concepts as ‘epithalamium’, ‘propemptikon’, ‘hymn’, ‘genethlios’, etc, as defined by Menander Rhetor, or would they simply have recognised ‘lyric’ as poetry performed to the lyre – that is, identified with a particular performative context – and known these ‘sub-genres’ of lyric as occasions, rather than literary categories. Does the occasion define your elements, or do you compose with particular elements in mind for a particular occasion?

 

The ‘performative’ model carries a lot of weight – basically, ‘genre’ is inseparable from ‘performance’: the context, singer and audience all combine to determine the type of song produced. ‘Genre’ as we know it, is then what happens when those songs become ‘literature’, become separated from their direct context of performance and become canonised and thus categorised according to both form and content based on the ‘original’ performance.

 

I’m not sure how to separate these models, to use the best one. Of course performative context is going to be indicated by the presence of particular elements. These elements, when they intrude into a different context (lyric wedding songs in tragic/comic plays, for example) are going to produce a Kreuzung. Perhaps it is best to adopt some of Cairns’ terminology, without embracing uncritically his assumptions. By this reasoning, the performance of a wedding song is going to be indicated by terms associated with the ceremony of marriage. When wedding songs, or topoi associated with them, cross over into other generic ‘forms’ (particularly in the pre-Hellenistic period), it may be that a) the (internal) dramatic context is associated with a wedding, and a wedding song is a natural corollary – much like the tragic lament; b) performative context is inherently fluid and allows cross-fertilisation from other types of oral poetry (this might, for example, be seen in some of Sappho’s lyric re-workings of ‘epic’ Homeric themes), or c) that archaic and classical poets deliberately mixed things up to create particular effects, acknowledging the specificity of performative context and the results of such mixis. Or indeed, all three.

My adventures in Greek literature

February 27, 2009

Hello, and welcome to my blog. My name is Toni Badnall, and I have just finished a PhD in Classics. I was viva’d in January 2009, and passed with minor corrections. I am currently making said corrections, attempting to adapt my thesis as a book, and looking for a permanent academic job while teaching variously at the University of Nottingham and in secondary schools.

I wrote my PhD on the wedding song (called ‘hymenaios’ or ‘epithalamium’) in Greek literature. I’ve always been interested in gendered readings of the ancient world and the role of women, and think it’s odd that while there is a lot of writing about ancient marriage, there’s very little writing about writing about ancient marriage. If you know what I mean.

Thus my PhD. I started with Sappho (C6th BC) and ended with Menander Rhetor (AD C3rd), and in between looked at tragedy, comedy, Hellenistic bucolic poetry, and Plutarchian philosophy.

The major things to come out of this research are:

1) An analysis of the wedding song that goes against current feminist readings. It’s often seen as a song genre associated with women – a lament by the bride or her friends for the life left behind. Yet McClure’s (2001) statement of this is based on a misreading of Athenaeus, and Wilson’s (1996) on an interpretation of Sappho that largely ignores the large number of epithalamia in which a bridegroom is mentioned/addressed. Such a large number of wedding songs are performed communally, by both sexes, articulating society’s values, that it is highly significant when this doesn’t happen (tragedy/travesty, for example) – see my point on communality in 2) below.

Just as marriage represents an essential part of gender and community interaction, so does the marriage song. It can, however, be said to be ‘gendered’ in the elements (or topoi) which are stressed by speaking voices of different sexes.

2) That marriage in the ancient world is seen as a very transitional process – a rite of passage a la Van Gennep. You have rites of separation (betrothal, pre-nuptial sacrifice, ritual bathing and adornment of bride and groom, feast in the father’s house), rites of limen or transition (public procession, accompanied by songs, to the new home), and rites of reintegration (certain rituals of acceptance upon arrival, consummation, performance of songs, gift-giving and ceremonial unveiling, etc). The most obvious transition is that the bride processes from girlhood to womanhood in the course of the rites, but they also involve both households and indeed the whole community – which is reproduced by the production of legitimate citizen children by the new couple.

This means that marriage is a far more public ritual than modern scholarship currently assumes.

3) Within this ritual, there is an idealised representation of how the ‘transition’ should take place – and this is through love. Something we take for granted in modern marriage, but cannot be assumed for societies with an arranged-marriage norm. We tend to see ancient marriage as hierarchical, in which the woman has no say and must submit. There’s an aspect of this in wedding poetry, but by far the emphasis is on beauty and seduction – sexual initiation through persuasion rather than force. The gods Aphrodite, Eros and Peitho (persuasion) play a large part, as do the Charites (Graces, which can also be translated as ‘sexual yielding’) and Muses (ensuring the ‘harmony’ of marriage?).

This means that the marriage relationship is idealised as far more mutual and reciprocal than is commonly assumed. How this related to real life is, however, another matter.

So that’s my research in a nutshell. Across the thesis, I examined how these ideas are manipulated by various authors and literary genres at various times – ‘transition’ as a literary metaphor, if you will.

Currently, I’m looking at how these ideas are expressed in the Greek novel, which will be the last chapter when the thing gets turned into a book. I’m starting to see some patterns emerging, but more on that later.


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