Appendix A: Poetry, Aggression, Ritual

Walter Burkert has pioneered an analysis of ancient Greek ritual that sees its roots in aggression, in biological impulses than can be observed in animals—Konrad Lorenz was especially fascinated by geese. [1] In the survey of poets in previous chapters, themes and poetic phenomena that related to ritualized aggression have formed a background for archaic poetry (in particular, Archilochus, our first lyric poet; Homer and Hesiod are shadowy, probably non-historical or quasi-historical figures). A key passage from Burkert deserves full quotation: Parallels with poets and poems we have examined will be obvious:

• Satire and laughter are obviously related; and laughter, perhaps, originated in “aggressive display of teeth.” Satire is, in a way, such a display; and we remember numerous comparisons of satirical poetry to fangs. Pindar, in his reference to Archilochus, writes that he, Pindar, on the other hand, will “flee the violent bite of evil speech.” [3] Horace speaks of satirical victims “wounded by this blood-drawing fang.” [4] In his sixth Epode, the same poet warns that if attacked, he will “bite back.” [5] The poet Nede describes his profession as “piercing flesh.” Meroney describes the curse/satire glám dícind as “an action of fangs.” [6]
• “A rhythm develops from repetition, and auditory signals accompanying the gestures give rise to music and dance.” Greek poetry was originally closely connected with music and dance: Homer was sung, and in Sappho’s day, lyric was still tightly connected with music. Of course, the chorus tradition, extending from the choral lyric to dramatic chorus, never lost its musical and dancing aspects. Even poetry that lost its musical adjunct kept its metrical, rhythmic nature.
• “Aggressive tensions, with their noise and beating, attack and flight.” Once again, one thinks of the haunting rhythmic nature of poetry. [7]
• “Attack and flight.” Satirical poetry was often explicitly attack, but more often the poet portrayed it as counterattack. [8]
• “Phallic display.” One thinks immediately of Archilochus, who offended through his obscene, probably phallic poetry. When he is punished, his tormentors “[became weak] in the genitals.” The closest parallel to this story is a myth in which the Athenians, after dishonoring Dionysus, suffer a plague “in the genitals.” They institute phallic cult to Dionysus to gain an alleviation of the curse. [9] Comedy, of course, possibly originated in phallic cult. Aristotle writes that comedy “originated in improvisation … from the prelude to the phallic songs which still survive as institutions in many cities.” [10] Semus describes a procession of hymn-singing phallophoroi ‘phallus bearers’ into the theater; there, they would “run forward and jeer [etōthazon] at any one they picked out.” [11]
• “Gestures of disgust. ” Satirical poetry can often be a verbal “gesture of disgust.”
• “Gestures of … purification. ” We think of the association of pharmakos and purification. Expelling the scapegoat purifies the city. The poet, when he expels an enemy through poetry, is a purifier; and his enemy, expelling the poet, thinks of himself as purifier. There is ambiguity, depending on whom one considers just, the poet or his enemy. And there is ambiguity in the purifying nature of the expelled dirt; in human terms, the human “dirt” can be heroic in his or her departure. But in any event, these phenomena are “not far removed from the impulses of aggression and destruction.”

In addition, as we have seen, Greco-Roman ritual included overtly satirical elements. The cult of Demeter in particular was connected with ritual abuse. A famous example is the gephurismos in the Eleusinian mysteries, the mockery of prominent citizens in a procession as they passed over a bridge. [12] Another Eleusinian connection to ritual abuse is Iambe, who coaxes the grieving Demeter into laughter through her jests. Demeter grieves for her stolen daughter, One immediately thinks of the word iambos, the meter of satirical poets, a word often used with the meaning ‘satire’. In the case of Iambe’s kind mockery, laughter may be a symbol of death and rebirth.

Archaic Greek poetry was, in turn, often closely connected with cult. We remember that Paros is listed immediately after Eleusis as a cult center for Demeter in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (491), and that Archilochus’ family had a connection with the cult of Demeter. [14] The Etymologicum Magnum tells us that comedy [kōmōidia] received its name from the fact that it was first performed among the villages [kōmas] in the festivals of Dionysus and of Demeter. [15] It is striking that Archilochus had ties with both cults. West notes that the etymology of iambos is uncertain, but the word has obvious ties to dithurambos, thriambos, and ithumbos, all associated with Dionysian cult. “Dithurambos and thriambos are titles of Dionysus and also songs in his honor,” writes West. The ithumbos was a “dance performed at a Dionysiac festival” (Pollux 4.104) and also a poem “for joking and laughter” or “a long and somewhat sinister song” (Hesychius). [16]

The scholiastic accounts of the origins of comedy link it with farmers, those who would be involved with agricultural work, the cultivation of Demeter’s gifts. Carlos Miralles and Jaume Pòrtulas link the tendency for poetic initiations to take place in agricultural or pastoral settings (Hesiod, Archilochus; compare Aeschylus, Epimenides) with agricultural ritual. [17]

Fescennine abuse offers a Roman parallel. Once again, farmers are involved, and there is ritual offered to a Demeter-like figure, “Earth-mother Tellus”; there is also a sacrifice of a pig, which reminds us again of Demeter and Eleusis. [18] Horace wrote: Fescennine abuse is “discovered through this festival”; as one wonders why, some possibilities come to mind. Perhaps there was a celebratory atmosphere and the abuse was meant in the spirit of pure fun, which seems to be Horace’s view. Another explanation could be that festivals offered a sacred time in which one could criticize openly because there would be extreme religious sanctions on violence during the festival (impune minax). [22] This would allow the lower classes to criticize the upper classes without being punished, as Horace suggests, for it is the “respectable houses” who are upset at the satirical, ritual attack (presumably from those involved in agricultural ritual), and who have the power to pass a law against it. Thus, the feasts of Dionysus and Demeter might have become tools for the more “democratic” movements (including small farmers) as opposed to the ascendant oligarchies (in the cities). There is some evidence that Dionysiac cult did have democratic connections. Dodds writes that the Dionysiac religion “probably made its original appeal mainly to people who had no citizen rights in the aristocratic ‘gentile state’ and were excluded from the older cults associated with the great families.” [23]

Perhaps controlled aggression is brought into a happy, relaxed harvest festival so as to neutralize aggression. Or perhaps this controlled aggression helped participants “let off steam” before the new beginning of a new time period, such as a new year, as in Carnival. [24]

The Nonae Capratinae offers an example of ritualized abuse shading into ritualized fighting. “The handmaidens, in gay attire, run about jesting and joking with the men they meet. They have a mock battle, too, with one another, implying that they once took a hand in the struggle with the Latins.” [25] Another detail in the Horace passage that suggests the aggressive, fighting aspect of this ritual abuse is the alternation of verses, which, as we have seen, are often competitive in nature. [26] One would expect friendly insults, one capping the other.

Thus, satire, the cult of Demeter/Dionysus, and ritualized elements of aggression formed a shadowy backdrop to the cult history of Archilochus that included a verbal phallic offense connected with Dionysiac cult, a trial and punishment of the poet, possibly exile, and punishment of society (impotence), ending in cult honors to Archilochus as favorite of Dionysus. The narrative mechanism that is the central focus of this book, which excludes the just poet unjustly, has important connections with this archaic nexus. Archilochus, the poet-scapegoat, is something of a priest, and a specialist in aggression. Perhaps the sin of the Parian burghers was to disallow the controlled aggression found in ritual abuse.