Showing posts with label blood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blood. Show all posts

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Paradiso 16: Some help from John S. Carroll

The dense texture of Florentine family names in Paradiso 16 is truly a thick wood, yet there are traces in it of an argument developed by Cacciaguida that has larger implications. Here's one particularly thorny passage, followed by a comment found among the Dartmouth commentaries.
Had not the folk, which most of all the world
Degenerates, been a step-dame unto Caesar,
But as a mother to her son benignant,
 
Some who turn Florentines, and trade and discount,
Would have gone back again to Simifonte
There where their grandsires went about as beggars
 
At Montemurlo still would be the Counts,
The Cerchi in the parish of Acone,
Perhaps in Valdigrieve the Buondelmonti.
 
Ever the intermingling of the people
Has been the source of malady in cities,
As in the body food it surfeits on;
 
And a blind bull more headlong plunges down
Than a blind lamb; and very often cuts
Better and more a single sword than five. (16.58-72)


Robert Hollander helpfully points to the Expositions by John S. Carroll on this passage from Paradiso 16. Carroll adduces several other sources, including Villani, Villari, and John Richard Green:



58-66:

It is to this 'confusion of persons' – this contamination of a pure citizenship by the introduction of inferior blood from the surrounding country , . . .  that Cacciaguida traces the evil that had befallen the city, and the blame of this he lays upon the Church, 'the people that on earth degenerates most.' Had the Church acted the part of a mother instead of a stepmother to Caesar, there had been no need for the Cerchi, the Buondelmonti, and others to have been brought within the city walls [Par. xvi. 58-66]. 


It is not known who was the incomer from Simifonti, now a Florentine banker and merchant, but whose grandfather went round begging in his native village. Simifonti is in the Val d'Elsa. For the taking and destruction by the Florentines in 1202, see Villani, Chron. v. 30; Villari, Flor. History, 163-166

The Cerchi came from Acone, a village near Florence whose exact stituation is uncertain. They rapidly became one of the richest families, lived in grand style, yet remained rustic and uncultured in manners: Villani calls them 'luxurious, inoffensive, uncultured and ungracious, like folk come in a short time to great estate and power' (viii. 39). As the leaders of the White Guelphs, Dante calls that party la parte selvaggia (Inf. vi. 65), the savage, rustic, boorish party. For the futher reference to them in the present Canto (94-99) see note* [below]. 

The Montemurlo of l. 64 was a castle near Pistoja, which the Conti Guidi were forced to sell to Florence because they were not able to hold it against the Pistojans. See Villani, v. 31]. To understand this, we must remember that the strife in Florence sprang from the existence within her of two races. Villani and Dante alike trace the origin of this difference to the conquest of Fiesole by Florence, and the consequent mingling of the two peoples. According to Villani, 'the Florentines are to-day descended from two peoples so diverse in manners, and who ever of old had been enemies, as the Roman people and the people of Fiesole; and this we can see by true experience, and by the divers changes and parties and factions which, after the said two people had been united into one, came to pass in Florence from time to time' [Chronicle, iv. 7. See also i. 38]. In the denunciation of the Florentines which Dante puts into the mouth of Brunetto Latini, the same view is taken of the contrast between
'That ungrateful and malignant people
Which of old time from Fiesole descended,
And smacks still of the mountain and the granite,'
[Inf. xv. 61-78.]

and 'the holy seed of the Romans,' from which the poet undoubtedly believed himself descended. Even if we put aside much of this as legendary, it remains true, as Prof. Villari says, that 'the diversity between the Germanic strain in the nobility and the Latin blood of the people, really constituted a strong element of discord.... Its whole territory bristled with the castles of feudal barons of Germanic descent, all hostile to Florence, and many of whom, safely ensconced on the neighbouring hill of Fiesole, were always ready to swoop down on Florentine soil' [The First Two Centuries of Florentine History, p. 73 (Eng. transl.) – an invaluable book for the understanding of the ever-changing factions of early Florence]. 

As the commerce of the city grew, it became necessary to make the roads safe for traffic, and the only way of doing this seemed to be by compelling the robber-barons to come inside the city-walls. But, as Green says, 
'it was equally perilous for an Italian town to leave its nobles without the walls or to force them to reside within. In their own robber-holds or their own country estates they were a scourge to the trader whose wains rolled temptingly past their walls.  

Florence, like its fellow Italian States, was driven to the demolition of the feudal castles, and to enforcing the residence of their lords within its own civic bounds. But the danger was only brought nearer home. Excluded by civic jealousy, wise or unwise, from all share in municipal government, their huge palazzi rose like fortresses in every quarter of the city. Within them lay the noble, a wild beast all the fiercer for his confinement in so narrow a den, with the old tastes, hatreds, preferences utterly unchanged, at feud as of old with his fellow-nobles, knit to them only by a common scorn of the burghers and the burgher life around them, stung to madness by his exclusion from all rule in the commonwealth, bitter, revengeful, with the wilfulness of a child, shameless, false, unprincipled' [John Richard Green, Stray Studies from England and Italy, p. 162]. 

And this terrible state of things Dante traced to the Papacy. Had the Church given the temporal power to Caesar as it ought to have done, the Emperor, in Dante's belief, would have proved strong enough to have brought the territorial nobles under the restraint of law, and thus have obviated the necessity to which the cities were reduced of adding a new and dangerous element of discord to those already existing within their walls. (emphasis added)


*Note on the Cerchi: 

ll. 94-99 refer to the Cerchi (see note {in comm. to vv. 58- 66}). Their houses were above the Porta San Piero, and had been acquired by this wealthy family from the Conti Guidi, who sprang from the ancient house of the Ravignani, the head of which was the Bellincion Berti of Par. xv. 112. The fellonia or treason charged against the Cerchi seems to be their failure as leaders of the Whites to defend the city against the Blacks in Nov. 1301. Dino Compagni says 'their hearts failed them through cowardice': the Priors gave them orders to prepare for defence and urged them 'to play the man.' But 'from avarice' they refused to pay the hired troops, made practically no preparations, and so handed over the city to six terrible days of outrage and pillage. The exile of the Whites which followed is the 'lightening of the barque' to which Dante refers in l. 96. For a full account of this disastrous struggle between the Bianchi and the Neri, see Dino Compagni's Chronicle, Bk. II. and Villani's, viii. 38-49.


Sunday, June 01, 2014

The Epikleros: Further ironies in Antigone

The new king of Thebes puts forth his claim to the throne:
ἐγὼ κράτη δὴ πάντα καὶ θρόνους ἔχω 
γένους κατ᾽ ἀγχιστεῖα τῶν ὀλωλότων.
I now possess all the power and the throne according to my nearness to the race of the killed. (Antigone 173-74)
Through his ἀγχιστεῖαhis nearness by blood, Creon proclaims himself the legitimate successor to the rule of Thebes.

If one were inclined to take a critical view of Creon's assumption of power, an interesting and unusual Athenian law in effect at the time of the Antigone (c. 461 BC) offers some ammunition.

It was called the law of the epikleros:
epikleros (fem. adj. acting as noun), epiklerote (abstract noun) · An epikleros was the daughter of a man who died leaving no male heir; she was not his heiress, but possession of his estate went together with her hand in marriage. This system of inheritance is described as the epiklerate: for further details, see sv. inheritance; and for comparison, see sv. engue and sv. ekdosis. (The etymology of epikleros is unclear: it may possibly mean “one to whom the property pertains,” but more likely is “one who pertains to the property.”)
The above definition is found on Demos, a site about Classical Athenian Democracy. More about the epiklerate is found in an article on Demos entitled Women and Family in Athenian Law under the section entitled "Women and Property."

According to Wikipedia's article on epikleros, "the entire system of the epiklerate was unique to Ancient Greece, and mainly an Athenian institution."

The German poet and translator Friedrich Hölderlin might have been the first to note the consequential legal relevance of epikleros to the Antigone. As the elder daughter of Oedipus, Antigone would necessarily be betrothed to her closest male relation. As her uncle Creon was already married, she was betrothed to Haemon.

Under the rules of the epiklerate, the daughter's marriage to the nearest male relation carries forward the house (and property) of the bloodline of her father. Were the epiklerate in force, the union of Antigone and Haemon would continue the line of Laius and Oedipus, as if Creon and his blood did not exist. How might Athenians have viewed Creon in this legal context? Would it have put Creon's actions into a different legal, and perhaps moral, light, for Sophocles' audience?

Let's remember that Creon's other son, Megareus, had sacrificed himself to save the city. Under this law, with the union of Antigone and Haemon, Creon and Eurydice's grandsons would be descendants of Oedipus.

This is quite remarkable: the moment he married Antigone, Haemon would no longer be Creon's son. The marriage would cancel Creon's bloodline in Haemon, and, since Haemon is his last living son, it would eliminate the oikos of Creon from the world -- that house would vanish, and be as if it had never existed.

So we can see in this the mirror image of Creon's assumption of power. Creon claimed his nearness ("ἀγχιστεῖα") in blood to Oedipus legitimated his accession to power, which in turn gave him the authority to negate the blood of Polyneices even as he purported to honor that of Eteocles. His decree imposed a law as radical in its own way as the epiklerate.

But if we entertain Holderlin's interesting suggestion, the play has another fateful layer. The one person who violates Creon's decree is the child of Oedipus who, according to the epiklerate, would effectively annihilate Creon.

This could put the relationship of the king to the girl in a different light. When he says, for example,
in no way can we let a woman defeat us. It is better to fall from power, if it is fated, by a man's hand, [680] than that we be called weaker than women - 
the irony deepens as we consider that the epiklerate had performative power: it produced a legal sex change. Antigone would be the "man" in her marriage with Haemon. The couple would assume her oikos, obliterating his.

When the new king says, "In truth, then, I am no man, but she is, if this victory rests with her and brings no penalty" (485-86), his words would resonate with a truth he is far from conceiving, but which would be properly true in Athens. The irony of Sophocles tends to have a sledgehammer inside its glove.
When sons of an epikleros came of age, they gained the ownership of the inheritance.[31] In Athens, this age was given in an extant law, and was two years past the age of puberty of the son.[32] In Solon's laws, it appears that the eldest son of the epikleros was considered the heir of his maternal grandfather, with any further sons being considered part of their father's household.... And the son of an epikleros did not inherit anything from his father, and was named after his grandfather. 
When Antigone says,

οὐδὲ σθένειν τοσοῦτον ᾠόμην τὰ σὰ 
κηρύγμαθ᾽ὥστ᾽ ἄγραπτα κἀσφαλῆ θεῶν 
455νόμιμα δύνασθαι θνητὸν ὄνθ᾽ ὑπερδραμεῖν
Nor did I think that your decrees were of such force, that a mortal could override the unwritten [455] and unfailing statutes given us by the gods.
the  audience would have reason to see that the unwritten statutes of the gods in fact underwrote the laws of men.