Storey, 'Greek Comedy and Ideology', Bryn Mawr Classical Review 9511
URL = http://hegel.lib.ncsu.edu/stacks/serials/bmcr/bmcr-9511-storey-greek
@@@@95.11.11, Konstan, Greek Comedy and Ideology
David Konstan, Greek Comedy and Ideology. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1995. Pp. ix + 244. $45.00. ISBN:
0-19-509294-5.
Reviewed by Ian C. Storey, Greek Drama -- Trent University
istorey@trentu.ca
On whatever subject David Konstan writes in the field of
classical studies (and beyond), the reader has come to expect
elegant and humane discussion of the larger points raised by the
ancient texts, the society behind the artist and his works. This
recent volume assembles a number of Konstan's previously
published papers on comedy (Old, New, and "modern" [i.e.
Moliere]). This may disquiet those who would be expecting a
brand-new monograph on comedy, and the articles do range over a
period of thirteen years. But each paper has been revised--where
I was able to check quickly and directly, the revision has been
substantial; the opening of the chapter on Wasps and the
close of that on Ploutos are newly written to provide an
introduction and conclusion to the material on Aristophanes,
while the chapter on Dyskolos is almost an entirely new
composition. Thus if not an entirely new book on comedy, this
work has been recast thoroughly by the author to maintain a
consistent overview. The chapter on Frogs (perhaps the
most provocative), originally published in French in an
out-of-the-way journal, is here translated into English and thus
more readily accessible.
Konstan deals with Old and Later Comedy in roughly equal
parts, Aristophanes represented by essays on Wasps,
Birds, Lysistrate, Frogs, and Ploutos
(the last a re-working of his joint paper of 1981 with Matthew
Dillon), and Menander by discussions of Dyskolos,
Perikeiromene, and Epitrepontes. Papers on
Terence's Eunuchus and Moliere's The Miser round
out this study. I shall content myself with observations on the
Aristophanic studies as well as one of the Menandrian where I
feel most at home.
Konstan's introduction (4) explains his studies of the
comedies as "ideological readings ...[that] look to the ways in
which the plays respond to cultural issues". Literary texts will
betray the "tensions and inequalities of class, gender, and
status" (5), and Konstan seeks out what he calls "the seams and
sutures" in comedy "where the fusion of incompatible elements
becomes visible". These "seams" take various forms in the
comedies under discussion. Sometimes they are changes in the
plot-line (as in Birds, Frogs, Ploutos), or
in attitudes toward characters (as in Wasps,
Ploutos), or in the moral level beneath the comedy
(Ploutos), or as in the case of Lysistrate a subtle
variation on the well-rehearsed oikos/polis theme.
Konstan takes issue with critics such as Heath for whom plot, not
ideology, is the comic all in all (5-6); for him the "lapses in
unity" are not errors of comic craftsmanship but "the source of
the overdetermined structure of the comedies". If there seems to
be a problem (or incongruity or "seam"), there must be some
authorial or societal reason here. Konstan rejects either loose
composition or conscious irony as alternative explanations of
such comic incongruity--especially well put on p. 79.
But it is this emphasis on "seams and sutures" (at times just
large-scale incongruities and inconsistencies) that worries me
most about Konstan's various studies. Are they as significant as
he maintains, or just part and parcel of the genre or of its
particular writers? I suspect that audiences would have been
used to this loosely structured and fanciful form of drama, that
they did not apply to it the same rigour that we apply to the
modern detective novel, that holes in the plot or entirely new
lines of action would not have worried an ancient spectator the
way they do a modern critic. We do not demand of modern musicals
or even of the Marx Brothers' movies that the words of the songs
that effectively freeze or break the action have much to do with
the plot or the "meaning" of the larger whole. This is our
expectation; did the ancients actually worry about or even notice
the incongruities that we find from reading the plays?
Similarly for Aristophanes the "seams and sutures" do not have
to reflect an ideological tension beneath the comic surface.
Incongruity is a well-documented phenomenon in his comedy--the
matter of Philokleon's teeth and Dionysos' change of mission
being the best examples. In fact Suss filled three articles with
such discrepancies and incongruities. Dover summarises well,
"that what is dramatically suitable at one moment may be
rationally irreconcilable with what is presupposed at other
moments in the same play". These discrepancies are
characteristic of our poet. Aristophanes simply did not bother
about such matters in creating his comic plots and fantasies any
more that Gilbert did about the relative ages of his major
characters in Pinafore or in any other of these rather
Aristophanean musical fantasies. If his mind races from one idea
to another, we should perhaps suspend the critical gaze and enjoy
the ride. Thus although I find much of what Konstan says about
each play interesting and thought-provoking, reaction must be
tempered by the consideration that he may be letting too much
ride on what may be not as ideologically significant as he
maintains.
Two other studies from the 1990s (both of which I have
reviewed elsewhere) deal with the persona of the comic poet
himself, but in two widely differing ways, namely Hubbard's
Aristophanes who in the parabatic sections at any rate is an
author in firm control of his material and lurking very close to
the surface of his comedies, and Bowie's deconstructed
Aristophanes who is less an author of crafted dramas than the
almost unconscious purveyor of Athenian attitudes to myths and
rituals--early on Bowie (p. 9) disavows any desire "to seek
authorial intent". Thus faced with this pair of antithetical
Aristophanes, I was curious to see what sort of comedian would
emerge from Konstan's study.
The historical critic for whom authorial intent is not the
lost cause that Bowie and others imagine will be at first
dismayed to read Konstan's denial of a programmatic intent (6)
with his declaration "there is no unambiguous 'Aristophanes'
within the texts" and his careful avoidance (8) of the author in
favour of the effects created by the comedies. But in this
respect the introduction (3-11) seems somewhat at odds with the
various chapters in which Konstan does allow for a creative
comedian at work. In particular the last pages of the study of
Wasps (26-8) do allow for the poet's own ideological
stance, and for his personal view of the jury-system. And the
discussion of Frogs frequently focuses on the author's
intentions (to the tragedians in general, to Aeschylus in
particular, to the status of citizens, to the purpose of the poet
in a city). Perhaps above all, in Ploutos Konstan sees
the conscious comedian at work. However the emphasis still tends
to lie with the plays and the effects they create; we do see an
Aristophanes at work, but one rather closer to Bowie's
deconstructed comedian than to Hubbard's visible author.
WASPS--The principal thrust of Konstan's first
discussion hinges on the point that the old men are not wholly in
the wrong nor are their characters and attitudes reprehensible.
Their orge, their most distinguishing feature as jurors,
is praiseworthy in the description of their valour in Persian War
times. As I read Konstan's argument, it is not that orge
itself is bad, but only as applied to the occupation as jurors.
This brings him to the same conclusion as de Ste Croix, that
Aristophanes is out to discredit the whole system, but with a
less purely partisan bias. Aristophanes is contrasting youth and
age, rich and poor, polypragmosyne and apragmosyne
in a fashion that elevates earlier values above modern (i.e.
popular) realities. On this reasoning Wasps fits well
with the reversed ending of Knights or with the parabasis
of Frogs or the ending of Lysistrate. On p. 17
Konstan finds it "odd" that common sense and conservative values
are assigned to a young man, but reversal of generational roles
is common in comedies of the 420s (cf. Clouds, Eupolis'
Goats) and given the virtual identification of Bdelykleon
with Aristophanes at 650ff., we can see the young comedian
himself behind one of his main characters--note the eloquent
send-off for Bdelykleon at 1450ff. I was pleased to see that
Konstan treats both characters as principals, as opposed to
Whitman, Reckford, and Bowie for whom Philokleon is the only
character worthy of consideration. On the whole this is a solid
discussion, even if the final comments (27-8) about class and
citizen-status are less compelling.
BIRDS--I was less happy with this chapter.
Birds has been a difficult comedy to write well on, and
often open to excesses of political and metaphysical
interpretation. Konstan canvasses a number of the political
interpretations (30-2), ranging from Suvern's pure allegory to
Arrowsmith's "warning to the Athenians", but stops short of
Whitman's (and Sommerstein's, although not directly cited)
rejection of a political reading. Here he distinguishes between
four types of imaginary society (anomia, antinomia,
megalonomia, eunomia) and shows how Nephelokokkygia
is composed of features of all four. I am not sure how relevant
all this is, since apart from the importance of nomoi to
the ancient concept of society, these are essentially modern
terms and the "seams" and overlaps may be significant to modern
theorists, but do not help with appreciating what Aristophanes
was trying to do with his play. He will argue at the end (44)
that Cloudcuckooland is a "complex image of Athens' own
contradictions", but essentially avoids any comment on
Aristophanes' own standpoint. The comedy contains perhaps an
irreconcilable blend of ancient utopian vision and modern
imperial designs, but whether there is anything beyond excellent
comic fantasy is still open to debate.
LYSISTRATE -- A subtle discussion of gender roles and of the
familiar antithesis of oikos/polis. Konstan's
first "seam" is the shift from the women as motivated by sexual
desire to their defence of marriage and the household, but on p.
49 offers a reasonable explanation ("the women's randiness makes
for some good fun at the women's expense") that should suffice.
Prologues are essentially "warm-ups" for the comedian and
audience--this is especially clear in Wasps and
Frogs. The sexual theme is just an attention-grabber.
What Konstan does show is that the comedy neatly inverts spaces
and boundaries--the women turn the city into an extended
household and seize control of the actual polis--not as
"intruders" but as reconcilers and healers. He demonstrates how
the women's visions and concepts surpass the fractious politics
and warfare of the men. He makes an interesting comparison with
Birds, although close in time not the obvious piece to set
beside Lysistrate, in that Birds shows us a new
idea (one with admitted older and utopian overtones) fully
realised--a brand-new order is created--while Lysistrate
is a total inversion of the great idea, a restoration of a past
state of affairs (ironically one that breaks up the unity of the
women into domestic units once again). He comments aptly, "the
utopian gesture has been recontained" (60). In this sense
Lysistrate can be considered Aristophanes' most
conservative comedy.
Some points of comment. On p. 47 he stresses the collective
nature of the women, but it needs to be stressed that these are
all citizen women; there is no hint of the break-down of the
barriers between free and slave. On p. 55 he views the situation
at Athens in early 411 as "still desperate"; but see Henderson
for a more optimistic view of affairs. On pp. 55/6 he alludes to
the historical reality of a truce between Athens and Sparta;
Thucydides 8.68-91 makes it clear that the oligarchs were trying
for just such an eventuality. Thus Aristophanes' fantasy
coincides with one part of an extreme right-wing campaign.
Finally on p. 59 he discusses the body-scenes at the beginning
and close of the play--"Lysistrata herself, acting as a kind of
pander"--describing the women's sexual play as "gentle and
integrative". Not all have agreed; see Bella Zweig's discussion
of the same scenes for a very different interpretation.
FROGS--This is probably the most interesting and
provocative piece in the collection. He begins from the
well-known discrepancy between Dionysos' original intent to bring
back Euripides and his later decision to bring back the winner of
the contest. He canvasses explanations of external and internal
significance, without allowing for the pure inconsistency of an
Aristophanic comedy--at 737ff. the play seems just to start over
with a new prologue. His first question is "Why Heracles?" [i.e.
why should Dionysos disguise himself as Herakles?]. Quite
frankly, the explanation to my mind is likely to be the frequent
appearance of both in comedy and satyr-play; by combining the two
Aristophanes can get the best of both stereotypes. In his n.6 he
cautiously suggests that Dionysos' mission in search of Euripides
is rather analogous to that of Herakles for Kerberos. I think
that there is more here than Konstan allows. His own answer is
that Herakles was "chosen because he was a mortal and had become
a god".
This leads to his first major interpretative theme,
salvation/resurrection. He insists on a tripartite division for
the comedy (the scenes on the descent [Herakles], the scenes
before the door [the Initiates], the contest between the poets),
and argues that each provides a manner of resurrection: Herakles
= salvation by individual and active heroism, the Initiates by an
almost passive state-of-being, the poets by confrontation and
political utility. On p. 64 he amusingly suggests that these
correspond to the numbers of Greek verbs (singular, plural, and
dual)--it would be interesting to explore whether the latter part
of Frogs contains more uses of the dual than one would
expect. The weakest argument is his analysis of the middle
scene, for it is not quite accurate to say that the Initiates are
purely passive, for they do act (the act of Initiation) and do
lead a certain life, and the scenes with Dionysos and Xanthias at
the door have really little to do with the Initiates who recede
into the background. In fact the Initiates frame this scene with
their parodos and parabasis--Konstan acknowledges
this on p. 69--but don't do much more than comment.
So far, so good, but I am less keen on his relation of the
tripartite structure and the three means of "salvation" to the
three phases of the rites of passage (separation, margin, and
aggregation). This turns the play into a rite of passage for
Dionysos (why?), or at least provides a sub-text of the ritual of
the rite of passage, in the same way that Bowie has argued for
much of Aristophanes. And here I am no more convinced than I was
with Bowie's book. Konstan does, however, proceed to make some
quite good points about the citizen/slave theme in the play (the
enfranchisement of the slaves after Arginousai, the atimoi
of the parabasis), and detects a nice "seam" in that
slaves can become citizens by sharing the city's perils and the
atimoi can become whole citizens again, but creatures like
Kleophon are in reality "aliens"; here the citizen/barbarian
barrier is firmly raised again.
On the contest between the poets, he sees Aristophanes as
showing that Euripides' art represents reality while Aeschylus'
can shape it (72). Here he stresses the ultimate political
responsibility of the poet, and demonstrates how it fits in with
Aristophanes' conservative and utopian creations elsewhere. In
his n.41 he cites Heiden who makes the very good point that
perhaps neither provided ultimate soteria, for can we not argue
that while Euripides possesses sophia and Aeschylus political
usefulness, if you want a poet with both, then turn to comedy?
PLOUTOS--A strong chapter in which Konstan sees an
active comic poet (not so much one with a particular agenda, but
one in conscious control of his material). This play has
suffered a variety of modern assessments, ranging from those who
see it as just an uninspired or unsuccessful fantasy, to the
genuine change of heart on the poet's part, to the ironists who
see the latter half undercutting the first. Konstan really falls
into none of these, although on p.84 he comes close to an ironic
interpretation (denied, however, on p. 79). He distinguishes
three "seams" in the play: (1) the very distinct change in
plot-line, from a redistribution based on moral criteria to the
remedy for the scarcity of wealth, (2) a switch in the scene with
the sycophant from moral issues to a discussion of activity v.
apragmosyne, and (3) exactly what is required, the mere
presence of Wealth or the regaining of Wealth's sight. Both (1)
and (3) progress from one pole to the other in the course of the
play. On his last pages Konstan suggests that Aristophanes is
deliberately muddying the waters of the class struggle in the
early 4th c. by offering "the ancient dream of limitless bounty"
and the inconsistencies in the text are not flaws or evidence of
irony, but "the signs of tensions immanent in ideology and social
reality that are overcome facetiously in the production of the
unified text" (90).
My first observation is the one made earlier that "shifts in
strategy" may just be another way of saying "looseness in
composition" and need not be as significant as Konstan maintains;
there is still much to be said for the first of the views
mentioned above (a less than successful fantasy). The third
"seam" may not be all that contradictory; we could look at it as
a progression--Ploutos when blind must be led physically into
one's house, but with sight regained he becomes active and makes
his own way. The metaphor of movement and progress is one of
major importance in this comedy. On the infamous agon
with Penia, he rightly questions Sommerstein's critique of Penia,
but could (I think) pursue this farther, since the unique defeat
of the second speaker (Penia) is one of the major planks in the
platform of the ironists. The scene with the sycophant is by no
means new with this play -- there are instances in
Acharnians and a very close prototype in fr. 99 of
Eupolis' Demoi where Aristeides the Just (cf. the Just Man
in this scene) confounds a sycophant. Konstan does not, I think,
allow for the stereotypes of this scene. In this chapter and in
the one on Wasps we see the most active Aristophanes,
combining in his comic creations a conservative personal ethos
with a popular view of utopia lost.
DYSKOLOS--Although with New Comedy we move from
politics and utopia to the realm of the family and of
philanthropia, the discussion of Dyskolos has much in
common with the Aristophanic chapters in that the principal
"seam" is the juxtaposition of the two plots, the misanthropy of
Knemon and the love plot involving Sostratos the young Athenian.
Many critics have seen this as essentially flawed comedy, a
youthful effort which ultimately does not work. Konstan rejects
this view (100/1) insisting that the two sides of Knemon's
character reflect the two different plot strands. In effect he
redraws the themes of the play: the misanthropy of Knemon which
must be remedied--Konstan tends to be a bit hard on Knemon with
adjectives such as "ogre-like" and monstrous"--and the clash of
values between city and country, where his rustic reserve is
perfectly admirable.
A few points of contention. There seems to be very little use
of Samia in Konstan's discussion, a pity since about
four-fifths of the play survive and of far superior quality to
that of Dyskolos. On p. 93 he describes Menander's
subject as "the vicissitudes of youthful passion", but what about
the passion of the mature Demeas in Samia? On the same
page he finds it odd that Knemon's daughter is the object of
eros, as opposed to gamos, arguing that "it is
rarely the case that a maiden girl is known to be a citizen ...
and is represented as the object of passionate desire". Again
what about Samia where Moschion has loved and will wed
Nikeratos' daughter? We know too little about Menander's vast
comic output, I feel, to make such a wide-ranging judgement.
Finally am I the only reader who is bothered by the last act, not
just in the lack of much significance to the plot-line, but in
the unfair treatment of Knemon by the revellers? At the very end
(106) Konstan sees the problem--"the surly misanthrope is
ultimately reduced to a figure of fun"--but I wonder if this
scene rather undoes the philanthropia which he sees
operating elsewhere in the play (104).
To conclude, Konstan's discussions are always elegant in their
phrasing and subtle in their content. He deals more with the
general approach, although he does not neglect the text itself.
His Aristophanes is a creative comic poet, not merely the
deconstructed purveyor of ideas and ideologies. Yet my principal
concern lies in the seriousness with which Konstan treats his
"seams and sutures"; loose construction or just authorial
indifference may just as well account for these inconsistencies.
That said, the essays were thought-provoking, and in the case of
Wasps, Frogs, and Ploutos deserve to be
among the required readings for these comedies.