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Tiresias between texts and sex

Charilaos N. Michalopoulos

DOI : 10.54563/eugesta.1085

    Résumé

    This paper investigates the special dramatic role of the combined presence of Tiresias and his daughter, Manto, in Seneca’s Oedipus. An overview of Manto’s relatively rare appearance in both Greek and Latin literature is followed by a detailed examination of Tiresias’ mythological past. Tiresias’ bisexuality, an emblematic trait of his myth, which is intrinsically related to his prophetic power, receives special attention. Learned Seneca proves to be well informed of Tiresias’ bisexuality, possibly through Ovid. The Roman dramatist exploits the father-daughter pair of Tiresias and Manto not only as an on-stage pre-figuration of Oedipus’ future (blind Oedipus guided by his daughter Antigone), but more importantly as a bold dramatic visualization of Tiresias’ own bisexuality. My discussion is rounded off with a section on the multiple connections between Oedipus and Tiresias.

    Index

    Keywords

    myth, bisexuality, Tiresias, Manto, Sophocles, Senecan tragedy

    Plan

    Texte

    From Greece to Rome

    It was almost a commonplace in Senecan studies at least until the 1980s to consider Greek tragedy not merely as a starting point but rather as the only point for intertextual comparison with Seneca’s dramatic production. Hence, the choice of common myth between Seneca and Sophocles made the Sophoclean Oedipus Tyrannus the most probable model for Seneca’s own version of the story of Oedipus1. There is no doubt that the Roman dramatist made extensive use of the Sophoclean play; however, a sounder approach to Seneca’s complex dramatic technique cannot be established unless we broaden the intertextual horizon, so as to include a wider range of works and genres (both Greek and Latin). We are in position to know that Seneca had at his disposal a much greater number of dramatic productions of Oedipus’ myth than those that survive today. We are aware of Aeschylus’2 and Euripides’3 plays entitled Oedipus and we also know that the myth was very popular in dramatic productions of the fourth century BC and during Hellenistic times4. In Rome, ‘Oedipus is a much referenced figure in literature and drama from Plautus (Poen. 443-4) and Terence (Andr. 194) onwards, and may have figured in Accius’ Antigona, Phoenissae, and/or Thebais and such late republican/early imperial epics as Ponticus’ Thebaid ’5. From Suetonius (Jul. 56.7) we learn that the young Julius Caesar also wrote a tragedy entitled Oedipus 6. In this vast literary output, Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus still retained its mark as the most famous tragedy of Greek antiquity among the members of the upper and well-educated classes of Imperial Rome7.

    Seneca’s choice to include Tiresias in a play about Oedipus hardly makes an unusual choice. Tiresias has a long and established connection with the House of Cadmus, which spans over many generations from the very founding of Thebes until its fall to the armies of the Epigoni8. Tiresias was among the most ancient native people of Thebes, since his grandfather Udaeus was one of the five Sparti (‘Sown men’) who helped Cadmus found the city of Thebes9. In Greek drama Tiresias figures persistently in plays of the Theban cycle (e.g. Sophocles: Antigone, Oedipus Tyrannus; Euripides: Bacchae, Phoenissae)10. The Sophoclean Oedipus Tyrannus, in particular, features a scene of remarkable tension and high pathos, in which Oedipus who is determined to save his fellow citizens clashes with Tiresias who seems rather reluctant to offer his help. The divide between the unwilling seer and the impulsive king culminates in a vehement quarrel over the theme of knowledge, replete with puns and ambiguous exchanges on physical and spiritual blindness11. Against such background, one can hardly fail to notice Tiresias’ somewhat reduced role in Seneca’s Oedipus. Compared to the seventy-six lines of Tiresias’ on-stage appearance in Sophocles, Seneca limits his presence to only forty-six lines. Tiresias’ rather restricted role has given cause for further speculation. Despite the fact that the Delphic oracle was essentially defunct by Cicero’s time12 and that the Romans, like the Greeks, often treated prophecy with less respect than it is nowadays presumed, especially in tragedy, Seneca opted for including Tiresias in his Oedipus. He could have left him out had he wished to do so. Nothing stopped him, for example, from omitting Aegeus, the Athenian king, who had appeared in the Euripidean Medea, from his own dramatic adaptation of the myth13. Tiresias’ presence and his divinatory role in the play cause no inconvenience at all, especially when considering the Romans’ superstitious preoccupations and their institutionalized system of divination14. Tiresias functions in the way of a typical Roman augur, ‘whose special expertise was in the prophetic lore derived from birds’15; the Roman equivalent of a Greek οἰωνοσκόπος16. In Greek tragedy Tiresias is also thought to be an augur par excellence17. What makes modern critics feel uneasy is the stark contrast between the Sophoclean Tiresias and his Senecan counterpart regarding the possession and revelation of divine truth. In Oedipus Tyrannus Tiresias does not need to perform further divinatory activities in order to inquire into the future; he already knows, but he is reluctant to reveal the truth to Oedipus. In Seneca, we come across a moderate seer, eager to help, but hindered from the acquisition of divine truth by physical limitations. This Tiresias struggles for truth as much as his king. It has even been argued that Seneca’s Tiresias is ‘not only a less contentious presence than Sophocles’ seer, but much less a presence altogether [...], an ancillary figure who interacts minimally with the other characters in the play [...]’18; Seneca’s Tiresias ‘does not serve to focus any thematic issue of the play’19. Moments before performing the ritual of extispicium Tiresias claims that he is too old and weak for divinely inspired prophecy and revelation (Sen. Oed. 297-8)20. Boyle’s remark that ‘metadramatically the phrase underscores that he is not the Tiresias of Sophocles’21 points us in the right direction. In addition, there is something particularly Roman in the ritual inspection of the entrails (extispicium), even though the practice was recognized by the Romans as pre-Roman22. This scene has also impressed Lucan, who rewrote it as a similar divinatory ritual performed by the Etruscan haruspex Arruns in the first book of his Pharsalia (1.608-638)23. As Capdeville has fairly recently argued in a detailed and well-researched paper, the association between the two texts is close both in language and content24. Yet there is an important difference between Arruns and Tiresias, since ‘Arruns reads the signs correctly and articulates his reading to those who have commissioned it. Tiresias, on the other hand, though aware that the signs are bad for Oedipus (387), offers no reading’25.

    Manto, the daughter of Tiresias

    I will now turn my attention to Manto, Tiresias’ daughter, in an attempt to explore the special dramatic function of her combined on-stage presence with her father. In Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus Tiresias is led by a child that remains unnamed. Seneca replaces the unnamed child in his Oedipus with Manto, the daughter of Tiresias. This is surely a strange choice, but not an unprecedented one. Manto, the daughter and guide of blind Tiresias, also appears in Euripides’ Phoenissae26, where – though unmentioned – she remains on stage throughout the scene between Creon and Tiresias (lines 834-959)27. Hence, the possibility of a Euripidean reminiscence should not be discarded, especially if taken into account that this is Manto’s only appearance in Greek drama to have survived.

    Manto is a rather obscure figure both in Greek and Latin literature. Her earliest appearance dates back to the cyclic epic of the Epigoni28, where Manto, after the sack of Thebes, is dedicated to Apollo at Delphi. Different strands of her story can also be found in later prose writers, such as Ps.-Apollodorus29 and Pausanias30. In all these versions Manto is identified with the daughter of Tiresias and she is granted the gift of prophecy31.

    The Italian myths about Manto are no less intriguing32. Manto’s trip from Greece to Italy seems to have been made initially through her association with the foundation of Mantua, so much as we can tell from a passing reference in Vergil’s Aeneid (10.198-200)33. Servius’ comment on line 198 offers valuable background information34. Manto, after the death of her father, Tiresias, came to Italy, where she was married to the river-god, Tiber, and had a son, Ocnus35. Ocnus founded Mantua, a new city, named after his mother36. The popularity of Oedipus’ myth in Etruria, which is well attested in art37, also seems to have contributed to the diffusion of Manto in Etruscan mythology38.

    Manto’s presence in the surviving Latin literature is somewhat restricted. Apart from the above mentioned reference in Vergil’s Aeneid, Manto’s only other appearance prior to Seneca is in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. There, in the tragic story of Niobe (6.146-316), Manto, who is introduced as Tiresias’ daughter39, appears as a prophetess who warns Niobe against her arrogant behavior towards the goddess Latona40. Despite her passing appearance, I would like to stress the fact that Manto in Ovid’s Metamorphoses acts as a female surrogate for Tiresias, in a story which follows a similar pattern to Oedipus’ story, yet with female protagonists. The correspondence between the Ovidian narrative and the story of Oedipus is hard to miss: in both stories the setting is the same (the city of Thebes), the main character is a member of the Theban royal family (Oedipus is the king of Thebes, Niobe is the queen of Thebes), the insult is directed against Apollo or against a member of Apollo’s family (Latona is Apollo’s mother); finally, in both stories the tragic aftermath involves the killing of the protagonist’s children (Eteocles and Polynices, Niobe’s children). Did Seneca pick up the idea of using Manto in his Oedipus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses? Manto’s only other appearance in Seneca seems to suggest an Ovidian influence. In Seneca’s Agamemnon Manto is also mentioned as the daughter of Tiresias who advocates honour and worship for Latona’s children. The close association of the two texts is sustained further on a verbal level through Seneca’s intentional reference to Manto as sata Tiresia41, which seems to be echoing the Ovidian text. Still, the Ovidian influence here should not be exaggerated in view of Seneca’s equally possible use of mythographical works42.

    One might argue that Seneca’s use of Manto is a dramatic version of the well established mythological pattern, according to which a male hero (Oedipus in this case) must use the aid of an awesome female figure (i.e. Manto) in order to gain access to a formidable male seer (i.e. Tiresias) and his ultimate knowledge43. This is, for example, the case with Circe and Tiresias, Eidotheia and Proteus in the Odyssey or Sibyl and Anchises in Vergil’s Aeneid 6. However, in Seneca’s Oedipus Manto can hardly be considered a fully developed character. Throughout her on-stage appearance she remains a mouthpiece of Tiresias and nothing more. She is addressed by no one than Tiresias; she replies to no other, but Tiresias. Manto is an intermediary between the on-going sacrifice and her blind father without any further interaction with any other person on stage. Father and daughter are interdependent and inseparable. So, what exactly are we supposed to make out of the ‘Tiresias-Manto’ pair? Why Manto and not a nameless (and theatrically voiceless) boy-guide? Is there anything particularly important behind the on-stage appearance of Tiresias’ daughter? It is the premise of my argument that the strange, and to a certain extent, rather unexpected father-daughter pair provides Seneca with ample opportunity to explore the mythological background of the enigmatic role of Tiresias and offers new perspectives to his presence in the play, which I will explore in the following section.

    The Tiresias-Manto pair in Seneca’s Oedipus

    It is true that the imagery of ‘seeing’ and ‘knowing’, upon which the Sophoclean Tiresias plays extensively, is conspicuously absent from the Senecan play, especially on the level of language44. The Senecan Tiresias does not contribute much to the clarification of the Delphic oracle; he resorts, instead, to necromancy (sciomancy, to be precise)45 in an additional attempt to come closer to the revelation of the truth46. Tiresias retrieves his mantic power during the deadly ritual, where the apparition of Laius’ ghost leaves no room for doubt regarding the identity of his murderer. In the Senecan play the truth comes to light not in words, but rather in action. After the necromancy, the Senecan Tiresias reports to Oedipus what his Sophoclean counterpart only insinuated with unique mastery.

    To move a step further, I am suggesting that the Senecan Oedipus has in front of his very eyes what his Sophoclean counterpart failed to grasp in Tiresias’ ominous prophecy. Seneca puts his emphasis on action rather than on word and gives his Oedipus the unique privilege of a glimpse into his own future. The powerful image of a blind father, Tiresias, guided by his daughter, Manto, is essentially a realization, a dramatization of Oedipus’ own fate. The father-daughter pair constitutes an on-stage, flesh-and-blood pre-figuration of Oedipus’ future, which recalls on a dramatic level the all too familiar image of blind Oedipus guided by his daughter Antigone in Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus (or in Euripides’ Phoenissae). Seneca promotes action over word and spectacle over speech47. In this light, I contend that despite the absence of the ‘blindness/vision’ opposition on a verbal level, the ‘darkness/light’ dichotomy operates more vividly on a dramatic level through the physical presence of the father-daughter pair.

    Bisexual Tiresias

    There is an element in Tiresias’ myth which in my view offers additional justification for Seneca’s choice to bring Manto on stage as a complementary figure to Tiresias. This element is Tiresias’ bisexuality. Following Brisson’s (1976) exemplary study of the myth of Tiresias48, there seems to have been three major strands in the mythological history of the blind seer. What is particularly important is that the two major versions of the myth, together with their numerous variations49, associate Tiresias’ mantic power with his change of sex. Tiresias’ sexual change has given cause for a whole series of critical interpretations ranging from a critique of the male – prejudiced Athenian perception of wedding to the shamanic origin of Tiresias’ bisexuality50, or the more plausible suggestion of the interconnection between sexual change and poetic capacity51. Yet, despite the methodological variety, there seems to be a common understanding that ‘the notion of bisexuality is critical to the identity of Tiresias’52, since the duality of his sexual nature reveals and reinforces ‘the transcendence [...] between mortal and higher planes’53. Tiresias intervenes between gods and mortals through his art of augury, while at the same time finding himself caught at the crossfire of a multitude of dichotomies, such as male/female, blind/sighted, outer shape/inner nature, stability/flux. And since prophetic knowledge stands on the verge between ‘here’ and ‘there’, between the human and the divine, we might argue as well that the seer’s bisexuality becomes an emblem, or better, constitutes a metaphor for Tiresias’ prophetic transcendence.

    The first version of Tiresias’ myth comprises two different episodes, namely his encounter with the mating snakes, and his role as arbiter iudicii in the feud between Jupiter and Juno on sexual pleasure54. The earliest reference to this version dates back to Ps.-Hesiod’s Melampodia, as we read in Ps.-Apollodorus55. Two variations of this mythological strand are particularly relevant to my discussion: the first comes from the paradoxographer Phlegon of Tralles (a freedman of the emperor Hadrian)56; the second comes from Ovid’s third book of his Metamorphoses (lines 316-338), where the poet concludes the narrative of the miraculous birth of Bacchus with a compressed aetiology of Tiresias’ blindness and his prophetic power57. In both accounts, the outline of the story has Tiresias wandering in the woods of Mount Cyllene (or Cithaeron in some versions)58, where he encountered a pair of mating snakes. He either hit or killed the snakes, which caused him the double change of his sex into woman and back to man again. It was because of this bisexual experience that Tiresias was drawn into the feud between Juno and Jupiter on the question of who has more pleasure in sex. When Tiresias answered that women enjoy sex nine times more than men, angry Juno struck him blind and Jupiter offered him the gift of prophecy in recompense. In this strand of the myth it becomes clear that the centrality of Tiresias’ sexual change ultimately makes his bisexuality ‘generically related to the attainment of seerhood’59.

    The second version of Tiresias’ myth was told by Pherecydes, a fifth century BC Greek historian60. A particulalry famous descendant of this version comes from Callimachus’ Hymn to Pallas, also known as The Bath of Pallas (lines 75-132)61. In the poem Tiresias, the son of nymph Chariclo, Athena’s protégée, is blinded by the goddess for seeing her naked in her bath (lines 75-82). Athena ultimately succumbs to Chariclo’s fervent supplication and in an attempt to compensate for her heavy punishment offers Tiresias prophetic power, longevity and the privilege to maintain his mind even after death (lines 121-30). This version saves no room for Tiresias’ sexual transformation62. Yet, in this story Tiresias also loses physical sight as a punishment and receives prophetic power in recompense63. Furthermore, he is granted the privilege to maintain his wisdom post mortem. This last element seems to echo Tiresias’ Homeric portrayal, in Odyssey book 10, where Circe is instructing Odysseus in how to descend to the Underworld in order to consult Tiresias about the continuation of his trip back home64. Circe refers to Tiresias as a blind seer, who retains his spirit and mind, even in the Underworld, as a gift granted to him by Persephone.

    The third version of Tiresias’ myth comes from a prose summary in the Homeric commentary of Eustathius, the twelfth-century AD commentator of Homer and bishop of Thessalonica65. In his comment on Homer’s Odyssey 10.494 Eustathius mentions a certain Sostratus, possibly of Hellenistic age, and his elegiac poem entitled Tiresias (Suppl. Hell. 733)66. What is remarkable about this version – and this is something that until very recently has gone overlooked – is the overt emphasis placed on Tiresias’ bisexual nature. The fact that Tiresias is born as a girl and not as a boy constitutes a striking mythological diversion. The seer’s sexual ambiguity is further enhanced by the accumulation of six consecutive sex-changes67, which culminate in his final transformation into an almost sex-less creature. Eustathius in his note remarks among the poets who treated Tiresias’ bisexuality also the Hellenistic poet Lycophron68. Unfortunately, the dearth of adequate evidence from Hellenistic literature is rather disheartening and does not allow for any definite conclusions69. The above evidence combined with the particular taste of Hellenistic literature for metamorphosis70 puts Tiresias in all probability high on the list of famous transexual mythological figures. Hence, his bisexuality must have become a standard feature of his mythological pedigree. It is exactly this side of Tiresias that I now want to explore further in view of his appearance in the Senecan play.

    It is my contention that the somewhat strange pairing of Tiresias-Manto not only prefigures Oedipus’ future, but more importantly offers a bold, dramatic incarnation of Tiresias’ bisexual nature. During the on-stage sacrifice, father and daughter are interdependent and inseparable. Manto interacts with nobody else but her father and vice-versa. Her words depend solely on her father’s words to the extent that her very presence becomes essentially an extension of her father’s presence. In this light, I am arguing that the Tiresias, the sexually ambiguous seer of prior literature now becomes a person of dual existence. On Senecan stage Tiresias’ bisexual nature translates into a dual presence, as he appears simultaneously both in the form of a man and a girl. The duality of his inner self reflects on the duality of his physical appearance. Tiresias’ female-half (i.e. Manto) describes to his male-half (i.e. old seer) what he cannot see, hindered by his blindness. In this ingenious way Seneca manages to dramatically emphasize and comment upon Tiresias’ bisexuality as a symbol of his transcendence of a whole set of dualities, such as male/female, blindness/vision, knowledge/ignorance, stability/change.

    It is perhaps not fortuitous that throughout the extispicium scene there is a dense repetition of the number two. Manto reports how the divinatory fire splits in two flames (321-2 sed ecce pugnax ignis in partes duas/discedit), Tiresias orders two sacrificial victims (a heifer and a bull), the bull needs to be struck twice (342 ... at taurus duos/perpessus ictus) and finally two heads protrude ominously from the diseased entrails (360 en capita paribus bina consurgunt toris). This binary imagery is obviously intended as allusion to the imminent fratricide of Oedipus’ two sons, Eteocles and Polynices. However, I am inclined to read Manto’s persistence in number as a subtle metadramatic comment on Tiresias’ sexual and physical duality, which is visually incarnated on stage through the simultaneous presence of the old seer and the young girl.

    Oedipus as Tiresias (or Tiresias as Oedipus)

    In his Oedipus Seneca tries to establish a strong and close association between Tiresias and Oedipus by offering a number of (more or less obvious) connections. Before anything else, the stories of Tiresias and Oedipus share the same three-stage mythological pattern involving: a) prohibition, b) violation, and c) punishment71. Both Tiresias and Oedipus violate divine law and both get punished for their transgression. Moreover, there seems to be a certain sense of excessive vengeance and violence in their punishment. In Callimachus’ Bath of Pallas young Tiresias loses his vision because he found himself in the wrong moment at the wrong place72, just like Oedipus found himself in the wrong moment at the wrong place, the fatal crossroad, where he killed Laius, his father. Having said that, one cannot fail to consider that Oedipus’ deadly attack against Laius, an aged traveler who was simply coming from the opposite direction, was as unnecessary and aggressive as was Tiresias’ attack on the mating snakes73. In both cases, the unnecessary violence exercised by Oedipus or Tiresias leads to a series of events, which ultimately result in their loss of vision through divine intervention. There is an interesting verbal link which further enhances the association. Ovid in his account of Tiresias’ story refers to his blow of the huge snakes with his staff with the noun ictus74, which is exactly the word used by Seneca, when Oedipus is contemplating killing himself with a sword75. This could well be a case of verbal coincidence. However, ictus was a common Latin euphemism for the ‘male sexual act’76, which points to the common lore of both stories: the blindness of both Tiresias and Oedipus occurs as punishment for a sexual crime. For Oedipus it is patricide and incest; for Tiresias it is either the forbidden glimpse of a naked goddess (in the Callimachean version) or his flawed use of his bisexuality, which in turn was the outcome of his violent disruption of the coupling snakes (in the Ovidian version)77.

    The description of Oedipus’ self-blinding supports the connection between Tiresias and Oedipus even more. In the Senecan play the messenger reports that Oedipus, after the revelation of his true identity, decides to blind himself, as he finds this punishment to be the most fitting for his crimes. Oedipus justifies his decision by claiming that his blindness will be a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth which will inflict on him perpetual punishment78. His blindness becomes essentially a prolonged death. Moreover, in a powerful analeptic moment, reported by the messenger, Oedipus depicts himself as a blind man, a living dead, excluded both by the living and by the dead79. The image of a blind Oedipus, and most precicely the detail of a living-dead wandering among the dead, recalls Tiresias’ fate in the Underworld, as we have seen it earlier in the Odyssey and in the Callimachean Bath of Pallas. According to Circe, Tiresias is granted by Persephone the gift to retain his prophetic power even after death80. In Callimachus’ Bath of Pallas Tiresias is offered the same privilege this time by goddess Athena as a compensation for his blindness81. Blind Tiresias is essentially a living person among the dead, which is exactly the kind of punishment the Senecan Oedipus wishes for himself. I am tempted to detect behind Oedipus’ wish for constant rebirth a (remote) echo of Tiresias’ numerous transformational rebirths through sex-change narrated by Sostratus in his elegiac poem82.

    Another link between bisexual Tiresias and Oedipus derives from Oedipus’ anguished invocation of mount Cithaeron at line 93183. Only moments after the revelation of the horrible truth, Oedipus evokes mount Cithaeron and asks for punishment. Mount Cithaeron plays an emblematic role in Oedipus’ life, since it defines the beginning and the end of his terrible crimes84. In the Senecan play, Oedipus holds Cithaeron responsible even for his crimes (Sen. Oed. 930-1 ipse tu scelerum capax,/sacer Cithaeron), at least for a moment, since Oedipus soon comes round and puts the blame on himself alone (Sen. Oed. 936-941)85. Oedipus’ identity, his whole life and ultimately his catastrophe revolve around this mountain and are determined by it. After all, Cithaeron was the place, where Oedipus was exposed as a baby and where all his adventures began. But Cithaeron plays a crucial part in Tiresias’ life too. Following Eustathius’ comment on Od. 10.949 Cithaeron was the place, where Tiresias was transformed into a woman after attacking the mating snakes86. Indeed, mount Cithaeron makes a much more appropriate place for a Theban seer than the Arcadian mount Cyllene87. Antoninus Liberalis offers an interesting detail, which helps us draw a further close connection with Oedipus. According to the mythographer, the place where Tiresias’ sex-change occured, was a three-road crossroad88, which inevitably brings to mind the fatal crossroad where Oedipus killed his father89.

    Tiresias’ bisexual nature also partakes in his association with Oedipus. In the choral song preceding the necromancy scene (Sen. Oed. 403-508) Tiresias incites the members of the Chorus to sing a celebratory paean to Bacchus90. Roisman has rightly remarked that ‘in having Tiresias introduce the paean to Bacchus Seneca might have drawn on his role developed in Euripides’ Bacchae, where Tiresias as a wise priest acknowledged the divinity of the late-coming god Bacchus and welcomed him to the Theban religion’91. In any case it is totally legitimate for the Thebans to appeal for deliverance to their patron god; a god also closely associated with nature’s vegetative processes. The opening invocation of the god (Sen. Oed. 403-411) is followed by a flashback to Bacchus’ early life (Sen. Oed. 412-428)92 with special reference to the androgynous, even female, appearance of the god93. The mythological pattern of Juno’s wrath and the consequent sexual ambiguity of Bacchus are almost identical with that of Tiresias and his own sexual change as a result of Juno’s wrath. Perhaps it is not by chance that Juno’s jealous response against the newly born Bacchus is briefly alluded to at the beginning of the Tiresias episode in Book 3 of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, where Tiresias’ story is told in connection with Bacchus’ double birth94. The emphasis on Bacchus’ sexual ambiguity at the opening of the choral ode could be seen as an implicit allusion to Tiresias, especially since the choral ode is being sung on stage, while the necromancy (presided by Tiresias) is being performed off stage. On the face of it, the ambiguity of Bacchus, a telling sign of the inversion of nature, through the mediation of Tiresias’ troubled identity seems also to reflect on the equally troubled status of Oedipus (husband/son)95. The possibility of yet another Ovidian influence on Seneca’s of bisexual Tiresias as a thematic unifier for Oedipal Thebes seems to be very likely, since Ovid in his Metamorphoses Book 3 also employed the adventures of Tiresias as an interpretative key for the whole of the Theban cycle, as Fabre-Serris has so efficiently shown96.

    Conclusion

    The man, the woman, the blind, the sighted, the epic, the tragic are but a few of Tiresias’ numerous transformations during his fascinating journey from Greek to Latin literature. Tiresias is an emblematic figure of divine wisdom and of sexual ambiguity. Despite the somewhat reserved, if not deprecatory, critical assessment of his version of Tiresias, Seneca proves to have exploited the colourful mythological and literary past of the blind seer to a maximum. In Seneca’s Oedipus Tiresias is a far cry from being merely “a much reduced figure, without a ‘character’”97; more importantly he becomes an emblem of duality and of prophetic transcendence. Furthermore, in dramatic terms, Tiresias together with his daughter Manto offer a powerful incarnation of a multitude of oppositions (male/female, blind/sighted, stability/flux), which are generically inherent to the play.

    I would like to finish my paper with a modern transformation of Tiresias, which seems to resound with numerous echoes of the seer’s troubled intertextual past; most of all his sexual ambiguity and the prophetic gift of poetry. T. S. Eliot in the third part (The Fire Sermon) of The Waste Land (1922) borrows the figure of the old, bisexual, respected Tiresias to incarnate the very consciousness of his work and give voice to its essence98:

    I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
    Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
    At the violet hour...
    ...
    I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
    Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest –
    I too awaited the expected guest. 230
    ...
    I who have sat by Thebes below the wall 245
    And walked among the lowest of the dead.

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    Notes

    1 For the direct dependence of the Senecan Oedipus on the Sophoclean Oedipus Tyrannus see the bibliography collated by Ugolini (1995) 225 n. 2 and Capdeville (2000) 143 n. 29. Retour au texte

    Versions of this paper have been presented at the Finnish Institute at Athens and at the University of Exeter. I would like to thank all those who participated in the discussions and offered me their stimulating questions and remarks. I am most grateful to the anonymous readers of Eugesta for their constructive suggestions and improvements on the first draft of this paper.

    2 TrGF fr. 173(= 387a). Retour au texte

    3 TrGF frr. 539a-557. Retour au texte

    4 For dramatic productions of Oedipus’ myth on the fifth-century BC Athenian stage see Töchterle (1994) 9-18; Edmunds (2006) 32-56; Ahl (2008) 18, 63-74. Retour au texte

    5 Boyle (2011) 96. Retour au texte

    6 Boyle (1997) 96 with n. 21. Retour au texte

    7 For an overview of Sophocles’ reception in Rome see Holford-Strevens (2000), esp. 239-254 on Seneca. Retour au texte

    8 For Tiresias’ strong connection with the House of Cadmus see Brisson (1976) 41-3. According to the ancient Scholion on Ap. Rhod. 1.308b (= Epigoni fr. 4 West) Tiresias had already appeared in the cyclic epic of the Epigoni. For more on Tiresias’ presence in the Greek epic cycle see Ugolini (1995) 92-99. Retour au texte

    9 Tiresias was the son of Everes, the son of Udaeus. The other four Sparti were Echion, Chthonius, Hyperenor and Pelorus. Retour au texte

    10 Ugolini (1995) 117-150 offers a well-researched (cf. esp. the bibliography compiled in p. 120 n. 8) and informative discussion of Tiresias’ presence in Greek tragedy. See also his balanced enquiry of Tiresias’ presence (or not) in Greek fragmentary plays (pp. 205-224). Retour au texte

    11 Ugolini (1995) 191-195. For the combination of old age with blindness in Greek drama see Bernidaki-Aldous (1990) 33-47. Retour au texte

    12 Ahl (2008) 121 with n. 108. Retour au texte

    13 Roisman (2003) 12. Retour au texte

    14 For the so-called extispicium scene as a Senecan innovation see Capdeville (2000) 143 n. 30 with bibliography ad loc. Retour au texte

    15 Ahl (2008) 121. For Tiresias in the Senecan play as interpreter of signs see also Staley (2010) 105. Retour au texte

    16 For Tiresias as οἰωνοσκόπος cf. e.g. Ps-Apollod. 3.6.7 Φερεκύδης δὲ ὑπὸ Ἀθηνᾶς αὐτὸν τυφλωθῆναι· οὖσαν γὰρ τὴν Χαρικλὼ προσφιλῆ τῇ Ἀθηνᾷ ... γυμνὴν ἐπὶ πάντα ἰδεῖν, τὴν δὲ ταῖς χερσὶ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς αὐτοῦ καταλαβομένην πηρὸν ποιῆσαι, Χαρικλοῦς δὲ δεομένης ἀποκαταστῆσαι πάλιν τὰς ὁράσεις, μὴ δυναμένην τοῦτο ποιῆσαι, τὰς ἀκοὰς διακαθάρασαν πᾶσαν ὀρνίθων φωνὴν ποιῆσαι συνεῖναι. Retour au texte

    17 Brisson (1976) 29-30. Cf. also Tiresias’ etymological derivation from τείρεα, ΕΜ s.v. τείρεα: Καὶ Τειρεσίας ὁ μάντις παρά τò εἴρω, τò λέγω˙ ἤ παρά τò τείρεα˙ πολλάκις γὰρ οἱ μάντεις ἐκ τῶν ἀστέρων τὶ λέγουσιν. Ή παρά τὸ τείρεσθαι, οἱονεί ὁ καταπονούμενος ἐκ τῆς στερήσεως τῶν οφθαλμῶν˙ τυφλός γαρ ἦν. Retour au texte

    18 Roisman (2003) 12. Retour au texte

    19 Roisman (2003) 17. Retour au texte

    20 For Ugolini (1995) 227 Tiresias’ physical frailty and his consequent decline of prophetic power serve as the perfect excuse for Seneca to introduce the extispicium and the necromancy scene. Retour au texte

    21 Boyle (2011) on Sen. Oed. 297-8. Retour au texte

    22 See Capdeville (2000) 124-25 and Boyle (2011) on Sen. Oed. 291-402 and 353-383. For Tiresias acting more like an Etruscan haruspex and less like a Delphic prophet see Ugolini (1995) 227-228 with n. 7. Retour au texte

    23 Boyle (2011) on Sen. Oed. 353-83. Retour au texte

    24 Capdeville (2000) 123-126, 155 n. 87 with bibliography ad loc. Retour au texte

    25 So Boyle (2011) on Sen. Oed. 353-83. The Manto-Tiresias scene also influenced Statius, who ‘imitated’ it in Book 4 of his Thebaid (443-64). Retour au texte

    26 For Euripides’ innovative characterization of Tiresias in his Phoenissae see Papadopoulou (2001) 21-26. For the poet’s rather light attitude towards Tiresias in his Bacchae see Roth (1984) 59-63. Retour au texte

    27 It is very fortunate that we have an artistic representation of this particular scene preserved on a Greek vase (c. 3rd-2nd BC, from Thebes (?), today in the British Museum). On this see Capdeville (2000) 166-67 n. 156 with bibliography ad loc. Retour au texte

    28 Cf. Epigoni fr. 4 West (= Σ on Ap. Rhod. 1.308b). Retour au texte

    29 In Ps.-Apollod. 3.7.7 Manto is married to Alcmaeon, one of the Epigoni, and gives birth to two children (Amphilochus and Tisiphone). Retour au texte

    30 Pausanias offers two versions of Manto’s story: an extended (7.3.1-2 9) and a shorter one (9.33.1-2). After the sack of Troy by the Epigoni, Manto was dedicated to the oracle of Apollo at Delphi. Under Apollo’s instructions the exiled Thebans crossed the sea across to Asia Minor, where they founded a new colony, Clarus. Manto married Rhacius, the leader of the Cretans who had initially set out against them, and gave him a son, Mopsus. For more references see Capdeville (2000) 167 n. 160. Retour au texte

    31 For the etymological derivation of Manto from μάντις see Eitrem in RE 14.2 (1932) s.v. mantis (μάντις) 1355.63. Capdeville (2000) 167 n. 161 taking into account the information provided by Diodorus (4.66.5-6) that the name of Tiresias’ daughter was Daphne makes an interesting suggestion that Manto was actually a nickname associated with her divinatory prowess. Retour au texte

    32 My discussion here draws heavily on Capdeville (2000) 130 and his informative notes. Retour au texte

    33 Verg. Aen. 10.198-200 Ille etiam patriis agmen ciet Ocnus ab oris, / fatidicae Mantus et Tusci filius amnis, / qui muros matrisque dedit tibi, Mantua, nomen. Retour au texte

    34 Serv. on Verg. Aen. 10.198 ocnus iste est Ocnus, quem in bucolicis Bianorem dicit, ut «namque sepulchrum incipit apparere Bianoris». hic Mantuam dicitur condidisse, quam a matris nomine appellavit: nam fuit filius Tiberis et Mantus, Tiresiae Thebani vatis filiae, quae post patris interitum ad Italiam venit. Retour au texte

    35 Servius Danielis adds two mythological variations on Ocnus (see Capdeville (2000) 168-169 n. 169). Retour au texte

    36 Isidore of Seville offers an even more imaginative mythological variant in which Manto was the founder of Mantua (15.1.59 Manto Tiresiae filia post interitum Thebanorum dicitur delata in Italiam Mantuam condidisse: est autem in Venetia, quae Gallia Cisalpina dicitur: et dicta Mantua quod manes tuetur). Retour au texte

    37 See Capdeville (2000) 168 nn. 163, 168. Retour au texte

    38 There is an alternative version, which bears evidence to the Etruscan origin of Manto/Mantua. Following Servius Danielis the founder of Mantua was not Ocnus but Tarchon, an ancient Etruscan hero. Tarchon named the new city after Mantus, an Etruscan infernal god, and equivalent of Dis Pater (Serv. Dan. on Verg. Aen. 10.198 Alii a Tarchone Tyrrheni fratre conditam dicunt: Mantuam autem ideo nominatam, quod Etrusca lingua Mantum Ditem patrem appellant, cui cum ceteris urbibus et hanc consecravit). Retour au texte

    39 Ov. Met. 6.157 nam sata Tiresia venturi praescia Manto. Cf. also Hyg. Fab. 128.2, where Manto appears (together with her father Tiresias) in a catalogue of augurs (AUGURES. Am<p>ycus Elati filius, Mopsus Ampyci filius, Amphiaraus Oeclei vel Apollinis filius, Tiresias Eu<eris> filius, Manto Tiresiae filia, Polyidus Coerani filius, Helenus Priami filius, Cassandra Priami filia, Calchas Thestoris filius, Theocl<y>menus [Thestoris filius, Telemus] Protei filius, Telemus Eurymi filius, Sibylla Samia, alii Cym<a>eam dixerunt). Retour au texte

    40 Following Bömer (1976) on Ov. Met. 6.157 Ovid is the first extant ancient source to connect Manto with Niobe. Retour au texte

    41 Sen. Ag. 319-322 quam fatorum praescia Manto, / sata Tiresia, / Latonigenas monuit sacris / celebrare deos ~ Ov. Met. 6.157 nam sata Tiresia uenturi praescia Manto. After Seneca Manto appears again only in Statius’ Thebaid, where she assists Tiresias to perform a necromancy (4.443-645). This necromancy, during which Tiresias calls Manto the ‘guide and strength of his old age’ (4.536 o nostrae regimen uiresque senectae), culminates with Laius’ ghost prophesying the mutual killing of Eteocles and Polynices. For Tiresias and Manto in Statius in comparison with their presence in Ovid’s Metamorphoses see Keith (2002) 397-402. Retour au texte

    42 For mythographical echoes in the Ovidian narrative of Tiresias’ story see Fabre-Serris (2011) 106-7. Retour au texte

    43 Carp (1979); eadem (1983) 280. Retour au texte

    44 Cf. Motto and Clark (1988) 148f. Retour au texte

    45 The proper term for the ritual in question is sciomancy (σκιομαντεία) and not necromancy, since Tiresias only recalls the ghost of Laius from the dead without trying to bring the dead corpse back to life, as it is the case with necromancy (νεκρομαντεία). For more on the distinction see Capdeville (2000) 145 n. 41. Retour au texte

    46 Schiesaro (2003) 8-12 in a concise discussion of the necromancy scene rightly draws attention to Tiresias’ association with the poet in view of the traditional intersection of the magic and prophetic power of poets and seers. Retour au texte

    47 Roisman (2003) 15 draws attention to the spectacular quality of the scene: ‘The three scenes in which Tiresias figures, albeit rather differently in each, are all spectacle, in the sense of extravagant and fantastic displays’. Retour au texte

    48 Brisson (1976). Cf. also Brisson (1997) 103-27. Retour au texte

    49 A total of seventeen variations. For more see Brisson (1976) 12-28. Retour au texte

    50 For possible shamanic traits in Tiresias’ bisexuality see Garcia Gual (1975) 119-120; Ugolini (1995) 62-63. Retour au texte

    51 Ugolini (1995) 59-65 offers an informative, yet concise, critical assessment of this literature. Retour au texte

    52 Carp (1983) 275. Retour au texte

    53 Carp (1983) 278. Retour au texte

    54 For sources and detailed analyses of this version and its thirteen variations see Brisson (1976) 12-21 and 29-77. Retour au texte

    55 Ps.-Apollod. 3.6.7. Cf. also [Hes.] Melamp. fr. 275 Merkelbach-West; Σ. Hom. Od. 10.494; Σ. Lyc. Alex. 682; Tz. on Lyc. Alex. 682). Ugolini (1995) 39-56 offers a full record of all later versions of the Hesiodic account, accompanied by a useful discussion of similarities and deviations among them. Retour au texte

    56 Phlegon of Tralles, Περὶ θαυμασίων (Mirabilia) IV (= Keller O. (1877). Rerum naturalium scriptores Graeci minores, vol. 1, pp. 73-4, Fragmenta Hesiodea 275 (p. 136) Merkelbach-West; FGrHist 257 F 36, VI, Dikaearchus fr. 37 Wehrli; Kle(it)archus (FGrHist 137 F 37); Callimachus (fr. 576 Pf.). Retour au texte

    57 For the importance of Tiresias’ bisexuality in the stories of Echo and Narcissus in Book 3 of Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Ovid’s use of the Sophoclean Oedipus Tyrannus for that reason see Janan (2009) 156-184. Retour au texte

    58 Most versions have mount Cyllene as the place of the encounter. On the contrary, Ugolini (1995) 51 based on Tiresias’ Theban descent argues for the appropriateness of mount Cithaeron, which also features in some versions. For mount Cithaeron offering a link between Tiresias and Oedipus see my discussion below. Retour au texte

    59 Carp (1983) 280. Both Carp (1983) and Liveley (2003) offer two exceptional gender-based readings of Ovid’s treatment of Tiresias’ bisexuality in the Metamorphoses. Following Gildenhard and Zissos (2000) 131-133 Ovid’s insertion of Tiresias in the so-called ‘Theban section’ of his Metamorphoses aims at signaling a whole series of thematic connections between his story of Narcissus and the Sophoclean Oedipus Tyrannus. Retour au texte

    60 Ps.-Apollod. 3.6.7 (= Pherecydes FGrHist 3 F 92a, pp. 85-6) ἄλλοι μὲν γὰρ αὐτὸν ὑπὸ θεῶν φασι τυφλωθῆναι, ὅτι τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ἃ κρύπτειν ἤθελον ἐμήνυε, Φερεκύδης δὲ ὑπὸ Ἀθηνᾶς αὐτὸν τυφλωθῆναι· οὖσαν γὰρ τὴν Χαρικλὼ προσφιλῆ τῇ Ἀθηνᾷ ... γυμνὴν ἐπὶ πάντα ἰδεῖν, τὴν δὲ ταῖς χερσὶ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς αὐτοῦ καταλαβομένην πηρὸν ποιῆσαι, Χαρικλοῦς δὲ δεομένης ἀποκαταστῆσαι πάλιν τὰς ὁράσεις, μὴ δυναμένην τοῦτο ποιῆσαι, τὰς ἀκοὰς διακαθάρασαν πᾶσαν ὀρνίθων φωνὴν ποιῆσαι συνεῖναι, καὶ σκῆπτρον αὐτῷ δωρήσασθαι κράνειον, ὃ φέρων ὁμοίως τοῖς βλέπουσιν ἐβάδιζεν. Retour au texte

    61 For Callimachus’ innovative treatment of the story see McKay (1960) 36-47 and Ugolini (1995) 71-74. After Callimachus two short references to this story survive: Prop. 4.9.57-58 and Non. Dion. 5.337-345. Retour au texte

    62 Loraux (1989) 253-71 offers a learned discussion on the reciprocity of mortal and divine vision in the Callimachean text with special emphasis on the ambiguity and/or impossibility of Athena’s nudity. Loraux is rather reluctant to adopt Brisson’s (1976) 34 suggestion that Athena’s virile body helps to introduce the theme of bisexuality, which is otherwise silenced in this version of the myth (pp. 259-61). Retour au texte

    63 For the widespread motif of ‘blindness as punishment’ in Greek myth see the informative discussion by Bernidaki-Aldous (1990) 57-93. Retour au texte

    64 Hom. Od. 10.487-95. For a detailed discussion of Tiresias’ presence in the Nekyia see Ugolini (1995) 88-91. The Homeric version of Tiresias is also present in Greek tragedy, so far as we can tell from the surviving fragments of Aeschylus’ Psychagogoi (TrGF 273-278) and Sophocles’ Odysseus akanthoplex (TrGF 453-461a) (see Ugolini (1995) 211-213). Horace in his Satires 2.5 also offers a playful parody of this Homeric version of Tiresias. Retour au texte

    65 Eust. on Hom. Od. 10.494 (p. 1665.48ff.), whose source is probably Ptolemy Chennus, an author writing in the first and early second century AD. Cf. also SH 733; FGrHist 23 F 7, p. 188. Retour au texte

    66 O’Hara (1996) has argued for a Catullan-era date of the poem. Cameron (2004) 150-2, on the other hand, considers the reference to Sostratus’ elegy a forgery by Ptolemy Chennus. Retour au texte

    67 Ptolemy Hephaestion 183 (éd. Westermann) mentions seven sex-changes of Tiresias. Retour au texte

    68 Cf. Lyc. Alexandra 681-7 καὶ νεκρόμαντιν πέμπελον διζήσεται / ἀνδρῶν γυναικῶν εἰδότα ξυνουσίας. / ψυχαῖσι θερμὸν αἷμα προσράνας βόθρῳ, / καὶ φασγάνου πρόβλημα, νερτέροις φόβον, / πήλας ἀκούσει κεῖθι πεμφίδων ὄπα / λεπτὴν ἀμαυρᾶς μάστακος προσφθέγμασιν. Retour au texte

    69 We could also add a fragment from the work of the Hellenistic poet Euphorion (fr. 96 Powel (= fr. 100 van Groningen)), which most probably refers to Tiresias. In this surviving fragment, however, there is no hint to Tiresias’ bisexual nature. Retour au texte

    70 For Hellenistic and Roman interest in metamorphosis see O’Hara (1996) 179 n. 6 with bibliography ad loc. Retour au texte

    71 This three partite pattern can also be applied to the Hesiodic account of the myth, as well as to the Pherecydean and Callimachean versions. Cf. Ugolini (1995) 35-36, and 74 respectively. Retour au texte

    72 Call. Lav. Pall. 77-78 διψάσας δ᾽ ἄφατόν τι ποτὶ ῥόον ἤλυθε κράνας, / σχέτλιος· οὐκ ἐθέλων δ᾽ εἶδε τὰ μὴ θεμιτά. Retour au texte

    73 In some variants of the myth Tiresias not only attacks the mating snakes, but he even kills them (cf. Σ on Hom. Od. 10.494; Tzetzes on Lycophr. 683; Anton. Lib. Metam. 17.5). Retour au texte

    74 Ov. Met. 3.325 corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu. Retour au texte

    75 Sen. Oed. 935-8 haec fatus aptat impiam capulo manum / ensemque ducit. ‘itane? tam magnis breves / poenas sceleribus solvis atque uno omnia / pensabis ictu? Retour au texte

    76 So Adams (1982) 148. Further on the phallic significance of Tiresias’ attack against the snakes with his staff see Liveley (2003) 160. Retour au texte

    77 For Ovid’s correlation of women’s excessive female pleasure in sex with the attack against the snakes as acts of violation see Fabre-Serris (2011) 106-7. Retour au texte

    78 Sen. Oed. 945-947 [...] iterum vivere atque iterum mori / liceat, renasci semper ut totiens nova / supplicia pendas [...]. Retour au texte

    79 Sen. Oed. 949-951 mors eligatur longa. quaeratur via / qua nec sepultis mixtus et vivis tamen / exemptus erres [...]. Retour au texte

    80 Hom. Od. 10.492-495 ψυχῇ χρησομένους Θηβαίου Τειρεσίαο, / μάντιος ἀλαοῦ, τοῦ τε φρένες ἔμπεδοί εἰσι / τῷ καὶ τεθνηῶτι νόον πόρε Περσεφόνεια / οἴῳ πεπνῦσθαι τοὶ δὲ σκιαὶ ἀΐσσουσιν. Also Tzetzes on Lycophr. 683. Retour au texte

    81 Call. Lav. Pall. 119-130, esp. 129-130 καὶ μόνος, εὖτε θάνῃ, πεπνυμένος ἐν νεκύεσσι / φοιτασεῖ, μεγάλῳ τίμιος Ἁγεσίλᾳ. Retour au texte

    82 See n. 65 above. Retour au texte

    83 Sen. Oed. 930-3 [...] ipse tu scelerum capax, / sacer Cithaeron, vel feras in me tuis / emitte silvis, mitte vel rabidos canes – / nunc redde Agaven [...]. Seneca is echoing here Soph. OT 1391-93 ἰὼ Κιθαιρών, τί μ’ ἐδέχου; τί μ’ οὐ λαβὼν / ἔκτεινας εὐθύς, ὡς ἔδειξα μήποτε / ἐμαυτὸν ἀνθρώποισιν ἔνθεν ἦ γεγώς; For Seneca’s use of Cithaeron as extra-scenic space in the play see Michalopoulos (forthcoming). Retour au texte

    84 Pace Holford-Strevens (2000) 244-5 who finds in Seneca’s invocation of Cithaeron ‘no pathos, only rhodomontade that at best leaves the untroubled reader patting the author on his back for cleverness’. Retour au texte

    85 See Busch (2007) 254. Retour au texte

    86 Eustathius on Hom. Od. 10.949, p. 1665.44f. φέρεται δὲ περὶ αὐτοῦ μυθικὸς λόγος, ὅτι δράκοντας ἐν Κιθαιρῶνι μιγνυμένους ἰδὼν καὶ τὴν θήλειαν ἀνελὼν μετέπεσεν εἰς γυναῖκα. εἶτα συγκατενεγκὼν μετὰ καιρὸν καὶ τὸν ἄῤῥενα τὴν οἰκείαν φύσιν ἀπέλαβε. Also see Σ on Hom. Od. 10.494 and Tzetzes on Lycophr. 683. For Cithaeron as the place of Tiresias’ transformation see Brisson (1976) 65 n. 79 and Schol. Ambros. on Hom. Od. 10.494. For a different view see Garcia Gual (1975) 120, who considers mount Cyllene as the original place of the encounter. Retour au texte

    87 So Ps.-Apollod. 3.6.7 (= [Hesiod] Melampodiα fr. 275 Merkelbach-West); Phlegon of Tralles, Περὶ θαυμασίων (Mirabilia) IV (= Keller O. (1877). Rerum naturalium scriptores Graeci minores, vol. 1, pp. 73-4; FGrHist 257 F 36, VI; Dikaearchus fr. 37 Wehrli; Kle(it)archus FGrHist 137 F 37; Callimachus (fr. 576 Pf.), Hyg. 75; Lactantius Placidus, Comm. in Statii Theb. 2.95 Janke; Vat. Myth. II 84, p. 104. Retour au texte

    88 Ant. Lib. Met. 17.5.1-4 Τειρεσίας δὲ γυνὴ μὲν ἐξ ἀνδρός, ὅτι τοὺς ἐν τῇ τριόδῳ μιγνυμένους ὄφεις ἐντυχὼν ἀπέκτεινεν, ἐκ δὲ γυναικὸς αὖτις ἀνὴρ ἐγένετο διὰ τὸ δράκοντα †πολλάκις πάνακτα†... Retour au texte

    89 Sen. Oed. 277-8 calcavit artis obsitum dumis iter, / trigemina qua se spargit in campos via, 772-3 [...]. Thebis procul / Phocaea trifidas regio qua scindit vias. Cf also Soph. OT 715-6 καὶ τὸν μέν, ὥσπερ γ’ ἡ φάτις, ξένοι ποτὲ / λῃσταὶ φονεύουσ’ ἐν τριπλαῖς ἁμαξιτοῖς. Retour au texte

    90 Boyle (2011) 208 draws attention to the metapoetic and metatragic function of the ode. Retour au texte

    91 Roisman (2003) 14. Fabre-Serris (2011) 110-2 has recently also argued for Ovid’s combined use of the Euripidean Bacchae and the Sophoclean Oedipus in his portrayal of Pentheus in Metamorphoses 3. Retour au texte

    92 For Bacchus’ unusual circumstances of birth cf. Cic. Div. 1.36 and 2.62; also Valerius Maximus 4.6.1 Retour au texte

    93 Sen. Oed. 418-420 qualis iratam metuens novercam / creveras falsos imitatus artus, / crine flaventi simulata virgo. Retour au texte

    94 Cf. Ov. Met. 3.316-7. Retour au texte

    95 So Boyle (2011) 207. Retour au texte

    96 Fabre-Serris (2011) passim, esp. 107 ‘ce court passage consacré à Tirésias est, à double titre, une clef pour l’ensemble du cycle thébain’ and ‘les aventures de Tirésias servent de clef interprétative pour l’ensemble du cycle thébain’. Retour au texte

    97 So Roisman (2003) 1. Retour au texte

    98 In a note to The Fire Sermon Eliot wrote: ‘Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a “character”, is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest. Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand Prince of Naples, so all the women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem’ (quoted by Theodore Spencer in Eliot V. (éd.) (1971). The Waste Land: A Facsimile and Transcript of the Original Drafts, NewYork:1). For Eliot’s use of bisexual Tiresias in The Waste Land as a symbolic embodiment of gender conflict and conflation see Comley (1979), Lee (2005), Di Rocco (2007) 313-344, Schein (2008-9) 92-4, Offutt (2009). Retour au texte

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    Référence électronique

    Charilaos N. Michalopoulos, « Tiresias between texts and sex », Eugesta [En ligne], 2 | 2012, mis en ligne le 01 janvier 2012, consulté le 12 décembre 2024. URL : http://www.peren-revues.fr/eugesta/1085

    Auteur

    Charilaos N. Michalopoulos

    Democritus University of Thrace
    chmichal@helit.duth.gr

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