Animus: An Exploration of Masculinity in Antiquity

The ancient world encompasses a broad range of history. The empires of Ancient Mesopotamia, Greece, and Rome span over 5000 years. A majority of the works from antiquity is lost to us; organic materials such as wood, plants, or animal byproducts would simply decay, while statues were seen to be destroyed in warfare (Greenhalgh, 1989). For example, Sophokles is said to have written over 120 plays, of which only 7 remains (Murnaghan, 2010). Limiting our classical studies to the remaining literature constrict our understanding of antiquity. Studying the object that remain— such as pottery, sculpture, jewelry —can help us to gain insights into individual, social, and political life in the ancient world. 

One major theoretical issue that has dominated the social sciences is social constructionism: the idea that genders and traditionally gendered roles are created and reinforced by authorities within society. Studying surviving evidence through this lens gives insight into the cultural mores surrounding masculinity. For example, Foxhall (1998, pp. 2-3) states that thoughts and beliefs surrounding traditional social roles are proliferated by cultural forms that help to reinforce them. She puts forward that our idea of traditional masculinity— powerful, independent, authoritative —hangs on a deep set of assumptions that can be found within the institutions of antiquity. Regardless of whether gender roles are socially constructed, exploring objects through this lens provides unique insight into what it was like to live in antiquity.

Objects act as conduits through which cultural forms can be preserved. Patterns of design, use, and trade of these objects can give us insight into their cultural significance, in turn informing us on what life might have been like in the societies they were made (Bassi, 2005, p. 2). Because cultural context changes how we perceive the world, it is unlikely that we are seeing in these objects what the ancients saw. In peacetime, a bridge the connects a city to the land outside might be seen as an object of opportunity; in wartime, a potential threat. In this essay, I will discuss three objects on antiquity— an equestrian sculpture, a drinking cup, and a vase —to show how they exemplify and reinforce cultural ideals of masculinity. Turning now to our first object, the Rampin Rider. 

The Rampin Rider is one of the earliest equestrian sculptures known to the Western world. The figure gained its title from George Rampin, who bought and later donated the head of the rider to the Louvre. The headless mounted figure was found at the Athenian Acropolis, which was known for holding commemorations for athletic victories, suggesting that it may have been commissioned for a victory. The sculpture depicts a bearded, nude, wreath-wearing horseman on his mount. Initially unearthed separately, the head and mounted torso were reunited when Humfry Payne correctly suggested their kinship. Authors have attested its ownership to Peisistratus, who’s Athenian tyranny lasted from 561-510 BC (Stillwell et al, 2020). A true understanding of the sculpture requires us to understand the environment it was sculpted in.

In antiquity, the beard understandably signified manhood (Athen. xiii. 565 a as cited in Peck, 1898). The Spartans reportedly punished men who were not courageous by shaving off a portion of their beard, signalling that the beard was related to ideals of masculinity (Peck, 1898). Nudity was a part of Greek culture; an aesthetic body was part of the Greek ideal. It was customary for men to exercise and compete without clothing. Plato notes the bodies of older men were unpleasant to the eye (Plato Rep. 452), which seems to be shared by artists. Older men were often depicted clothed (Mourtatidis, 1985, p. 217), insinuating they no longer upheld the ideals of manhood. Wreaths were associated with glory and power, awarded to the winners of athletic competitions in Ancient Greece (Carruthers, 2020). The imagery of Rampin Rider seems to be an amalgamation of the ideal masculine form: vigorous in body, victorious in competition.

Equidae played a large role in ancient societies. Hippotrophia— the ownership and rearing of horses—was held as a prescient marker of wealth in ancient Athens (Griffith, pp. 200-201). Papakonstantinou (2014, p. 107) speculates that then-ruler Peisistratus may have had the Rampin Rider commissioned out of eagerness to claim credit for an Olympic victory and to associate his family name with horsemanship. Griffith (2006, p. 201) suggests that the horse motif became increasingly associated with elitism as visual art was generally produced for them. Taken to be true, Peisistratus’ choice of sculpture implies a relationship between equestrianism, elitism, and superiority.

In Greece, the horse was seen as a noble, while donkeys and other equids seem to have been assigned a lower status. Donkeys were associated with labour, while horses were associated with leisure activities. The relationship between working slave and leisurely aristocrat would have easy been transplanted onto the images of the lowly donkey and noble horse. (Griffith, 2006, pp. 228).

Similar to a Westerners’ relationship with their vehicle, meaning and value were assigned the ancients’ pet, reflecting both utility and image (Griffith, 2006, pp. 190-191). The ownership of animals way for the Greek elite to create a perceived difference between them and the rest of Greek society. This difference-making is seen in other ways: Hellenistic royal statues in civilian dress are not found, alluding to a desire ruler for the ruler to be differentiated from the ruled (Roy, 1999, pp. 113-114). The desire to be of “equestrian rank” highlights the horse’s associations with wealth, power, prestige, and difference. 

In the West, the concept of masculinity has been liberally associated with power: an association which may be a vestige of monarchical society. Kings of antiquity were an aspiration ideal to those under their rule. First establishing rule through military dominance, the king was at once a benevolent protector and feared leader. He was subservient to the gods, and through the royal cult was worshipped as a god himself (Chaniotis, 2003, pp. 431-432). Over time, symbols associated with the king— generosity, vitality, martial prowess, godliness—may then condense into an image that defines ideals of masculinity within his kingdom. 

An example of this condensation can be seen in Hellenistic Greece. Roy (1999, pp. 113-114) notes that an artistic convention of royal portrayal emerged in that period. The king was portrayed either in armour, nude or on horseback, hinting at a relationship between royalty and horsemanship. The mounted Rampin Rider may then be seen as a concretization of the ideal image of men, and therefore, masculinity. 

Ancient literature is littered with associations between gods, mortals, and animals. Homer’s Iliad associates a handful of gods and heroes— Zeus, Poseidon, Apollo, Helios—with horses or chariots. Helios, the son, flies a chariot across the sky every day. In contrast, Hephaistos, a god of lower social status, was seen riding a mule to Olympus. Hephaistos was among the least aristocratic of the gods, a god of the “common folk”. His relationship to the mule places him outside of the aristocracy.

Equestrian competition was associated with aristocratic culture. The upkeep of horses was expensive, limiting entry into equestrian events to the wealthy (Golden, 1997, p. 330; Griffith, 2006, p. 198). While old age limited competitive capacity, competitive desire for status would carry into old age. Equestrian sport was then a social form through which differences in wealth, status, and age could be perpetuated (Golden, 1997, p. 330). The wealthy hired charioteers to compete in their place, claiming the status and authority of their victories (Papakonstantinou, pp. 107-108). Equestrian competition was an avenue for the Greek elite to reinforce their pretension to superiority, separating themselves from the rest of Greek society.

Turning now to an Athenian black-figure amphora, dated to the second half of the 6th century BC. Manufactured in Athens, it’s place of discovery remains unspecified (Amphore à tableaux | Héraclès combattant le lion de Némée entre Athéna et Iolaos, 2020). The object depicts the first of mythical hero Herakles’ 12 labours, his battle with the Nemean Lion (Hes. Theog. 326-332). The symbolism associated with Herakles and the lion gives us a platform from which to explore the lion motif and its cultural significance.

The distinction between known and unknown territory was highly significant to the ancients (Dick, 2006, p. 243). It was the duty of the king to be a frontiersman, straddling the thin line between known of his kingdom and the unknown of what lies beyond. In mastering the forces that lay beyond the walls, he would expand his reign. The lion has been portrayed as a king of their territory; the Lion King is one modern-day example of this. In the Assyrian Royal Lion Hunt, the ritual killing of the lion served as identification with it. It was not unusual for the king to be both a lion and lion-slayer (Dick, 2006, p. 245); showcasing his capacity to be as deadly as a lion, while having the power to control this force.

 

The ancient Mesopotamian poem of Erra and Ishum, dated to the first millennium BC, hints at a relationship between kingship and the lion: “In the heavens I am a wild bull; in the land (ersetu) I am a lion; in the homeland (matu) I am king” (Dick 2006, p. 244). The ersetu refers to everything outside of his kingdom, while the matu refers to everything inside the walls of his kingdom. By symbolizing himself a lion-slayer, the king seems to be demonstrating his lordship over the ersetu— in both physical and spiritual sense —broadcasting himself as an authority worthy of fear, respect, and veneration.

The lion motif appears in the Greek world around 1200BC, toward the end of the Mycenaean period. Authors have suggested that Mesopotamian ideology made its way to Greece through trade routes (Tartaron, 2014). The Lions Gates of Mycenae erected during the mid-13th century BC hint at this cultural transmission. Interestingly, Joseph Campbell (2018) believes the lion statue was meant to incite fear in those who threaten the order the exists inside their dwelling, pointing to the fear-inducing properties of the lion motif. It has been suggested that the lion murals of the royal houses of Crete, Mycenae, and Egypt were commissioned by the kings (Marinatos, 2012, p. 116) —associating themselves with leonine qualities of power, authority, and ferociousness.

Greek heroes Achilles and Herakles are consistently associated with lions. Both Herakles and Achilles are peripheral figures. Achilles’ conduct invites a comparison with the lion, seeming to stand outside of societal norms. Homer’s treatment of Achilles sets the hero against men:

“Just as there are no faithful oaths between lions and men, and wolves and sheep cannot live in peace but must always plan to harm each other, even as those you and I cannot be friends” Achilles to Hector, Hom. II. 22.262

Greek storytellers do not make similar associations to lions as the Mesopotamian kings; a monarchy relied on a strong leader. By allying with the image of the lion, the Mesopotamian king projected leonine qualities of virility and independence to those he presided over. The individualistic extremes of Achilles run up against the monarch’s unchallenged superiority. Greek myth focuses on the uncontrollable aspects of lion’s image, coming to be associated with cultural disruption. Shifting attitudes may be traced to the differing political outlooks of monarchical Mesopotamia and democratic Greece.  

Our final object an Attic red-figure kylix, a wine-drinking vessel, dated to the sixth century BC (Berlin F 2278 (Vase), 2020). Made in Athens, the cup was found in an Etruscan tomb, pointing to the potential of cultural transmission. It is referred to as the ‘Sosias cup’ as an inscription on the vessel reads “Sosias made it” (Moreno, 2016, p. 19). The vessel depicts heroes from Homer’s Iliad, Achilles and Patroklos, though the scene itself does appear in Homer’s Iliad. This suggests the artist appropriated images of the heroes of myth to give power to some form of narrative.

The cup showcases a bearded Patroklos alongside an unbearded Achilles. As mentioned earlier, beards seemed to signify the ideals of masculinity in Ancient Greece. The bearded Patroklos, contrasted with the beardless, youthful image of Achilles alludes to a mentor-mentee relationship. While the Iliad outlines a platonic relationship between the two, multiple writers believe their bond was lined with sexual undertones. That we can see both of their genitals on close inspection lends to these assumptions (Clarke, 1978, pp. 381-382).

Supporting the idea of Patroklos and Achilles’ bond Greek custom of paiderasteia. The typical relationship between adolescent boys and adult men in Ancient Greece, where an erastês (meaning “lover”) is guided by an erômenos (meaning “beloved”) toward ideals of male behaviour (Marguerite & Ryan, 2005, pp. 3-4). Patroklos can be seen as an idealization of the masculine form; Achilles, an idealized adolescent. The function of the Sosias cup, taking advantage of the cultural regard of the Greek heroes, may have been to reinforce Greek ideals of masculinity in Greek society.

The Sosias cup was likely manufactured for use at the Athenian symposium. The symposium was a pillar of Greek society, where aristocratic men would gather to eat and drink. Neer (2002, p. 9) suggests that Attic pottery was made with these gatherings in mind. Participants would come together around a large bowl filled with wine from which they would fill their vessel. The fact that, with every drink, the drinker is brought up close to the scene of the cup hints that this interaction was an important function of the vessel. The pederastic imagery would have been chosen with the male audience of the symposium in mind, serving to imprint ideals of masculinity and authority to its audience (Brendle, 2019, p. 12).

Objects serve as springboards for our study of the ancient world. Careful study the of design, decoration, usage, and trade of antique objects give us a unique perspective into the world they were used in. The symbolism associated with objects enables us to give new meaning to history, meaning that is not always available through text. Taken together, the Rampin rider, Sosias cup, and black-figure amphora help us in gaining a deeper understanding of what it meant to be a man in the ancient world.

References

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