Euripides was lampooned in Aristophanes’ comedies for creating characters such as Phaedra and Stheneboea, married women driven by desire for a man who is not their husband. By contrast, the picture of Sophocles that we glean from the extant tragedies seems to characterise him as a playwright comparatively less interested in depicting female erotic expression and its consequences. This chapter shows that this picture is flawed: in at least three plays – Phaedra, Oenomaus and Women of Colchis – Sophocles did portray ‘women in love’ who experienced sexual desire for a male character and whose actions in pursuit of that desire resulted in the deaths of others. The chapter draws attention to this overlooked aspect of Sophoclean characterisation, and deftly exposes the main differences between the typical Sophoclean and Euripidean models of such women: in Sophocles, none is deliberately betraying a husband, and this may be one reason as to why the playwright appears to have escaped the accusations of immorality and misogyny that comedy heaped upon Euripides.

Introduction

In the twenty-third chapter of his Poetics, Aristotle is arguing that an epic, as much as a tragedy (if not quite in the same way), ought to be composed around ‘a single, whole, complete action, having a beginning, a middle and an end’ (1459a20–1), and he praises Homer (i.e. the poet of the Iliad and Odyssey) for perceiving this and choosing for his subject, not even the whole of the Trojan War, but just one cohesive part of it (the events arising from the quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon).

The claim that one can make ‘only one or two tragedies’ out of the Iliad or Odyssey does not quite stand up. Aeschylus, after all, created a complete trilogy out of each of the two epics. Sophocles may have written three plays based on episodes from the Odyssey – Nausicaa or The Washerwomen (from book 6), The Phaeacians (presumably from books 7–12 or some part thereof), and The Foot-Washing (from book 19, unless – as has also been suggested6 – it was actually about events leading to Odysseus' death and identical with Sophocles' Odysseus and the Fatal Spine). But the Odyssey does, much more than the Iliad, contain within its overall unity many episodes that can if desired be treated as self-contained stories. The relevant thing about the Cyclic epics, and especially the two that Aristotle singles out, was that they consisted almost entirely of such episodes, with little if any overall unity. And they were indeed, as Aristotle implies, massively exploited by the great tragedians, to the extent of about twenty-two plays in the corpus of Aeschylus, twenty-three in that of Euripides, and no less than forty-seven (about two-fifths of his total output) in that of Sophocles. As we shall see, however, it was the Cypria rather than the Ilias parva that was the most popular source.

No explicit information survives about the date when Samia was produced, and we are forced to rely on internal evidence. This has led different analysts to somewhat different conclusions, often based on rather equivocal evidence, but nearly always placing the play somewhere in the first half of Menander's career.

The most cogent evidence for an early date is the presence of satirical references to three contemporary Athenians, Diomnestus, Chaerephon and Androcles (504, 603, 606–8nn.). There are no such references in any of the other plays of Menander preserved on papyri (not even in the virtually complete, and relatively early, Dyskolos), and only ten in the ‘book’ fragments. Of these ten, four (frr. 264–6, 268) come from Orge, Menander's first play; two (frr. 224, 225) from Methe, which must date from 318 or earlier; one from Androgynos (fr. 55), also likely to be early, since it refers (fr. 51) to the Lamian war of 322; and two from Kekryphalos (frr. 215, 216), which probably dates from the first year or two of Demetrius of Phalerum's rule. Thus, apart from Samia, we have only one possible reference to a contemporary Athenian in a play that may be later than c.315 – fr. 385, from Hypobolimaios, which mentions one Amphietides, whose name had become proverbial for imbecility (and who may therefore not have been a contemporary at all). This is very strong evidence that Samia was produced no later than c.314 – that is, in the first seven years or so of Menander's career – and, in the absence of any objective evidence requiring a later date, this evidence should be accepted.

The action takes place in front of two houses, those of Demeas and Nikeratos. In the Lycurgan theatre (see Introduction §10) it will probably no longer have been possible, as it might have been in Aristophanes’ time, to use painted panels hung on the skene front to give an impression of the affluence of one house and the dilapidation (593) of the other (see Moretti 1997: 17–25); instead, Demeas’ wealth is quickly made evident by Moschion's description of his luxurious upbringing (7–17), and he will probably also have mentioned the poverty of Nikeratos’ family in the lost portion of the prologue (29/30n.) In addition to the houses, there are three other off-stage locations that are of importance to the play:

Assuming that it was produced at the Lenaea or City Dionysia, Samia will have been performed in the Theatre of Dionysus as reconstructed in stone during the administration of Lycurgus (c.336–324). The basic elements of the theatre environment – the ‘dancing-place’ (orchestra) in which the chorus performed, but which could also be used by the actors; side-passages (eisodoi, later parodoi) for entrances from, and exits towards, places at a distance; and a building at the back (still called ‘booth’, skene, despite being now a permanent and imposing edifice with a columniated front and projecting wings) representing up to three houses or other interior spaces that played a role in the action – were much the same as they had been for a century before him. In Samia, as in many other Menandrian comedies, only two of the three skene doors are in use – doubtless the two lateral doors, one representing the entrance to the house of Demeas, the other to that of Nikeratos.

All Menander's plays, so far as we know, can be performed, if necessary, by three actors, provided that it was considered acceptable for the same role to be played by different actors in different scenes – and we know that this sometimes was acceptable in the Athenian theatre, for it is necessary in at least one tragic drama – Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus, produced posthumously in 401 bc. And there are passages which look as though they were written specifically to give time for an actor to change mask and costume before appearing in another role. Moschion's monologue before his final exit in Act I (only eight lines survive, 88–95, but it is likely to have been considerably longer) enables the actors who have exited (into the skene) as Chrysis and Parmenon to change and re-enter (via an eisodos) as Demeas and Nikeratos; and in Act V, Parmenon's not very well motivated departure at 694 will enable the actor to change and reappear as Nikeratos at 713.

That Menander's drama, and New Comedy generally, owes much to fifth-century tragedy, especially Euripides, was already recognized in antiquity (cf. Satyrus POxy 1176 fr. 39 col. 7); indeed, according to Quintilian (10.1.69), it was recognized openly by Menander himself, who ‘both greatly admired [Euripides], as he often testifies, and followed his lead, though in a different genre’. In modern times it has often been observed that many of Menander's plays have strong intertextual links with particular tragedies, and in the case of Samia a close relationship has long been observed with Euripides’ Hippolytus, with Demeas, Moschion and Chrysis corresponding to Theseus, Hippolytus and Phaedra respectively. In both plays a quick-tempered father, returning from abroad, wrongly comes to believe that in his absence his son (a bastard son in one case, an adopted son in the other) has slept with his (the father's) wife or concubine. In both plays the son is proud of his virtuous character. In both, owing partly to deception, partly to the father's ‘over-confidence in his own reasoning’ (S. R. West 1991: 18), the situation develops in such a way that the son finds it impossible to convince his father that his suspicions are groundless. Many detailed parallels can also be perceived, most notably between the father-son confrontations in Samia 452–538 and Hippolytus 902–1101. Since Samia is a comedy, the truth naturally comes out in time to prevent any truly evil consequences, and several other features of the Euripidean play undergo inversion. The Hippolytus and Phaedra figures – Moschion and Chrysis – are at no time hostile to one another; in fact they are allies in a scheme to deceive Demeas, and Moschion intensifies Demeas’ suspicions of himself by speaking in defence of Chrysis (453–75). Hippolytus is falsely accused of rape; Moschion is really guilty of it, but is never suspected (in regard to Plangon, that is) until he confesses.

One of the series of mosaics, probably of the fourth century ad, discovered in the early 1960s in the so-called House of the Menander at Mytilene on Lesbos (Charitonides et al. 1970: 38–41 and pl. 4.1) declares itself to be a representation of Act III of Samia (Σαμίας μέ(ρος) Γ) and labels the characters, from left to right, as Μάγειρος‚ Δημέας and Χρυσίς. The scene illustrated is that of the expulsion of Chrysis from Demeas’ house (369–83). Demeas (white-haired, white-bearded, and wearing a long, belted, sleeved robe), is advancing towards Chrysis, with his right arm outstretched and his stick raised threateningly in the other hand; his mouth is open. Chrysis, who is holding the baby, is very richly dressed: both her long inner garment, and her shorter outer one, are multi-coloured, her hair is elaborately styled, and she appears to be wearing a tiara and a necklace. She looks slightly towards Demeas as he speaks to her. The Cook, who is a black man (283–390n.) and has something of a pot belly, wears a brown outer garment cut very short and, it would appear, trousers; he is watching and listening intently, and perhaps thinking of intervening (his left foot is turned towards Demeas and Chrysis), but has not yet done so. If one particular moment is represented, it may be 382–3, when Demeas for the third time orders Chrysis to go away (ἐκ τῆς οἰκίας ἄπιθι) and the Cook is on the point of resolving to go up to him (προσιτέον) and protest.

Although only about half of the first two acts has survived, the essentials of the action can be reconstructed with very little uncertainty, not least because in the early part of the play the action appears to have been rather slow-moving.

Demeas, a wealthy, unmarried Athenian, adopted Moschion as his son when Moschion was a young child (cf. 7–9) and brought him up in affluence (13–16). After Moschion had grown up, Demeas, by then fairly advanced in years, fell in love with a hetaira from Samos named Chrysis, and Moschion encouraged him to take her into his house (19–28).

Moschion himself fell in love with Plangon, the daughter and only child of Nikeratos, Demeas’ much poorer neighbour. Apparently, however, he at first took no steps to seek her hand in marriage, possibly because he was afraid his father would object to his choosing a bride who would bring little or nothing by way of dowry. Then Demeas and Nikeratos went away together on a long business trip to the Black Sea region – which ruled out any possibility of marriage until such time as they returned. Plangon's mother and Chrysis struck up a friendship (35–8), which led to their holding an all-night women's party together at Demeas’ and Moschion's house for the festival of the Adonia (38–46) – during which Moschion raped Plangon (see ) with the result that she became pregnant (47–50). He immediately went to see Plangon's mother and made a sworn promise to marry her when her father returned (53n.).

Adoptive father and adopted son

As soon as the Bodmer papyrus made it possible to view and understand Samia more or less as a whole, it was quickly perceived (Treu 1969; Mette 1969; Jacques 1971: xxviii–xli; Lloyd-Jones 1972) that the relationship between Moschion and Demeas was a crucial feature, perhaps the crucial feature, of the play, even though it is rather rare for them to be on stage together. A major determinant of Moschion's actions, evident from the prologue on, is his awareness of how much he owes to his adoptive father, and his sense of shame at having acted in a way that would lower him in his father's estimation. An even stronger determinant of Demeas’ actions is his desire to believe the best of his son if at all possible, to avoid quarrelling with him, and to avoid doing anything that might injure his reputation. In Act II this leads Demeas to condone Chrysis’ apparent offence against him (in rearing ‘her’ baby instead of exposing it, 132n.), contrary to his original intentions, when Moschion urges him to, and then to put pressure on a reluctant Nikeratos to have Moschion and Plangon married that very day; in Act III it leads him to expel Chrysis from his house on the mere presumption that Moschion, being a person of good character, could not have committed a serious sexual wrong, and also to avoid telling her the real reason for her expulsion; in Act IV, and again in Act V, it leads him to apologize (537–8, 702–3) for an ‘injustice’ that was at least as much Moschion's fault as his own.