1Any reference today to “age and sexuality in Antiquity” almost automatically invokes thoughts of “Greek pederasty”, a practice that was recognized and accepted at certain points in history. However, caution is necessary before taking anything for granted and making unwarranted assumptions: questioning the age of the partners in a sexual relationship does not, in relation to Antiquity, pose the same issues or problems as in present-day Western societies. It would be anachronistic to look for the relationships between age and sexuality that can be observed today in societies which are nowadays regarded as existing “before sexuality” [1]

2The question of age was not, of course, absent from the customs and norms of ancient societies, and there is a good deal of work pointing out the specific characteristics of the groups which researchers sometimes call “age cohorts”. [2] The latter combined considerations of gender, status and geographical and cultural distinctions (in Greece, for example, customs clearly varied between one city and another). [3] The interest which we, as twenty-first-century Western researchers, take in the relationship between age and sexuality originates in current preoccupations and is conceived in modern terms. It is this concept which we need to tease out, so as to take into account the vast differences which separate us from the erotic regime of these ancient societies.

3This article will first attempt to define the terms of this enquiry and then to give an overview of the findings of recent work on Antiquity concerned with issues of age and sexuality, which have often been interpreted in terms of symmetrical or asymmetrical relationships. Finally, this point will be expanded by an analysis based on a study of Greek poetry from the archaic period, [4] which should enable us to deconstruct any preconceived idea that homoerotic relationships between women would have been more egalitarian than homosexual relationships between men, and to take a fresh look at the question of erotic reciprocity.

Societies “before sexuality”

4Many researchers, mostly following Michel Foucault’s work, have shown that in Antiquity people did not consider themselves to be defined by such a thing as “sexuality”, and the sex of the person desired was not a criterion used to define and categorize a desiring subject. It was never thought that individuals, whether men or women, whatever their status (citizen, resident alien, foreigner, or slave), their origin or their social background, could be grouped under a single heading on the sole basis that they were attracted to persons of the opposite sex, or on the criterion of their attraction to persons of the same sex. A study of the documents clearly shows that the primary distinction perceived in Antiquity was not between the sexes, but between those who were free and those who were not, those who could dispose of their own bodies and those whose bodies belonged to a master – that is, the slave population, a high proportion of the overall population. [5] In general, when the Greeks said ándres or gynaîkes, they were referring only to the citizen population, or at the outside to free people (citizens, freedmen and freedwomen, resident aliens and foreigners). For this reason, these terms do not signify what the words “men” and “women” do today.

5Moreover, given that no repression singled out individuals attracted to those of the same sex as themselves, there were no groups of people whose common experience might form the basis of a specific subculture. The studies by Michel Foucault and, a few years later, by David Halperin, of the discourse which developed a comparison between love of boys and love of women (in The Greek Anthology, and in Lucian, Plutarch and Achilles Tatius) [6] have shown that the rhetorical and occasional contrasts which it drew not only excluded women’s perspectives and the possibility of relationships between adult men (which none of these authors took into account) but primarily described matters of taste which did not engage one’s entire life, still less one’s psychological identity. Add to this the fact that relationships between women are never included amongst the possible comparisons, [7] and the conclusion is simple. Not only did identities as “men” or “women” not exist independently of social status (because the prime distinguishing characteristic was such status, ruling out any consciousness of a “feminine condition” [8]) but equally neither heterosexuality nor homosexuality, as such, existed in the Ancient World. In Ancient Greece, the desirability of a body is not determined by its sex. [9] However, in these matters of taste (though not identity), age can arise explicitly as a factor.

Greek marriage: entirely asymmetric

6Solon, the sixth century Athenian poet and law-maker, provides some indications of how the Greeks perceived the ages of the life of a free man. [10] Despite an arbitrary subdivision of the human lifespan into seven year periods, it is possible to identify five key points: childhood, when the paîs has not reached puberty; adolescence, which is essentially ephemeral, since the “flower” of the skin changes and the cheeks become covered by hair; [11] young adulthood, when the twentyone year old becomes a néos and is no longer a nḗpios, [12] being at the height of his strength and powers; maturity, when a man (anḗr) is fully developed, so that he marries at around age thirty, and has acquired prudence; and finally old age, when people have lost their strength but reached the height of wisdom. [13]

7These subdivisions do not apply to women. [14] For women, there are childhood; maidenhood (parthenía) which lasts for more or less four years [15] and is characterized by the erotic desire which the girl can arouse; [16] the state – in principle very short-lived – of being a young wife (nýmphē) who has not yet given birth; that of being an adult woman (gynḗ) who has become a mother; and old age, when a woman has lost the capacity to have a child. [17] In general, and in spite of variation at different periods and in different places, this asymmetry between the age cohorts of men and women is evident at the age of marriage. [18] Men marry at around 30 years old, [19] while women are given in marriage at about eighteen. Thus men were young adults (néoi) for some ten years while women were young wives (nýmphai) generally for only a year.

8The differences in life history between free men and free women are immediately apparent from these subdivisions. Thus a future wife is “given in marriage” by her father or guardian, and sometimes betrothed very early, even before the marriage ceremony (gámos) has taken place. There was no legal minimum age, always and everywhere applied, but documents do allow us to indicate tendencies and customs. [20] In the eighth century BCE, Hesiod mentions the age of about eighteen. [21] The Gortyn Code, from fifth-century Crete, fixes the age at twelve at the earliest. [22] In the fourth century, Aristotle speaks of 14 as the lowest age at which in Athens, an epíkleros can be married. [23] Finally, girls could be married before the onset of menstruation. [24] The usual age-gap was from ten to fifteen years, but girls could have very much older husbands. Whatever the historical period or the region, customs and habits resulted in an asymmetry of age in the marital relationships of free individuals.

9A question thus arises. Did this asymmetry in age at marriage mean that married men must have had inclinations towards paedophilia? It is obvious how anachronistic this question is. Nevertheless, its equivalent for sexual relationships between men has often been raised, which proves that views of the past are always influenced by the moral codes of today.

Youth and consent in erotic relationships

10In French law today, the age of consent is 15 years, and sex by minors is either forbidden (between persons over 15 and those under 15), or regulated (for those between 15 and 18). [25] By implication, the law favours relationships between people of the same age. In Ancient Greece on the other hand, an age difference was a factor which made a relationship between lovers commendable and worthy of respect. Such a relationship could be announced publicly, for example at banquets, and sometimes legally recognized by the city. [26] Over and over again, myths retell stories of love and erotic abductions between a powerful god and a young (male) mortal. [27] In a similar inversion, sexual relationships between a minor and a “person in authority”, which in France today is prohibited by criminal law, was, in Greece by contrast, generally portrayed as rendering the relationship more ethical. Within the context of aristocratic banquets in the archaic period, the difference in age might be celebrated, [28] and it is also an aspect emphasized by Plato in his dialogues; “pederasty” is “good” when it leads towards philosophy. [29]

11In contrast to what some commentators have proposed in their search for explanations of these exotic practices, [30] the dimension of a pedagogical relationship based on an asymmetry of authority was not essential to erotic relationships between adults and young men. There is substantial documentary evidence for erotic attraction to the bodies of youths, which although lacking any justification on the grounds of intellectual or ethical impulses, was neither legally prohibited nor subject to moral condemnation [31].

12The age of a young man did not make him a prohibited sexual partner on grounds of vulnerability; on the contrary, his youth rendered him a preferable partner. In Crete, as reported, according to Strabo, by fourth-century BCE historian Ephorus, [32] once a child (ho paîs), abducted by his lover (ho erastḗs) with the approval of all, returns to the city, he receives praise and presents and reports that he has not suffered physical violence (bía). The erotic relationship has indeed taken place with his consent, and with the agreement of the whole community. Both iconographic images and erotic poems portray boys who (provisionally or definitively) refuse the advances of their seducer. [33] It was allowable for a paîs to consent to a relationship, and the lover did not thereby become a rapist or a pervert riddled with unmentionable desires. The relationship was all the more acceptable, moreover, if the lover took part in the education of the young man, and if he was from a noble family, with a good reputation. For example, in Xenophon’s Symposium, the rich Kallias, in love with the young Autolycus, invites his beloved and the boy’s father to the dinner party organized in his house in Piraeus, [34] and both willingly accept. This is very distant from our contemporary structures for keeping a close watch over the sexuality of minors.

Eros: an impulse, not a component of identity

13In the ancient world, to be struck by érōs meant being propelled by an ungovernable impulse, being invaded by an external force. [35] The terms erastés or erôn (the present active participle) are sometimes used for the person struck by eros: the equivalent as a feminine noun is very rare. [36] The person who is the cause of this amorous impulse is described by the words erómenos/eroménē. None of these words, however, indicate an identity. They are derived from the root word erân, forming, in the former case, a noun for an active subject, and, in the latter case, a passive verbal noun (the form is -menos). However, given the meaning of the verb erân (to be struck by érōs) and its construction taking a genitive (and not a direct object), [37] this grammatical passive should not be seen as carrying a passive connotation based on a distribution of sexual roles, in the sense of dominant/dominated or even penetrating/penetrated. [38] The two terms simply indicate two lovers, in an asymmetrical and contextualized way.

14The vocabulary used in the context of amorous relationships between men contrasts with present-day terminology such as homo/heterosexuality or pederasty, in that its morphology does not indicate the object of love. The term paidophileîn or its derivatives appears three times in sympotic poetry (poems sung at banquets) [39] but without indicating any category of individuals. Equally, the terms paiderastía, paiderasteîn and paiderastḗs are seldom used in the period between the eighth and second centuries BCE. Almost all the occurrences of these words date from the Roman period, in the writings of the Fathers of the Church, of the authors who wrote in Greek under the Roman Empire (Lucian, Plutarch, Athenaeus), and in technical writings (on magic, astrology and medicine). Out of the dozen occurrences in classical Greek, seven come from Plato (six of them in the Symposium), [40] and one from Xenophon (to describe a soldier from Olynthos who fights better if surrounded by beautiful young men), [41] while the other, single, occurrences are rare: one hapax (that is, a word which only appears once in the whole corpus) in the work of the orator Isaeus (the verb katapaiderasteîn); [42] one insult in a play by Aristophanes (appearing only once, on an equal footing with “womaniser”!) [43] and in a few fragments, mostly from comedies (in the title of works whose text is lost, or in a solitary line). [44]

15In addition, the repeated use by Plato of the word paiderastía (in comparison with the dearth of occurrences in the overall corpus of that period) can be explained by that philosopher’s wish to prove that a certain type of love allowed for the pursuit of philosophy. [45] However, although it might be thought that this text sanctions pederasty both as a custom and as a noun, the relationship between the young and handsome Alcibiades and Socrates, who refuses his advances, challenges traditional assumptions. [46]

16In the archaic and classical period, what we call “Greek pederasty” did not constitute a particular sexual category separate from other erotic desires. Sappho, like Alcaeus or the Theognidea, speaks of érōs. Xenophon, when he discusses the educational value attached to the love of boys in Sparta at the time of the legislator Lycurgus, simply uses the tern erastḗs. [47] Likewise, in the works of Aristotle, as we have seen, and in very many contexts where erotic relationships are mentioned, [48] the lovers, struck by érōs, are erôntes and not paiderôntes, even if they love boys. Therefore, even if practices which we define as pederastic frequently appear in the documentation available to us, we have to recognize that Greeks did not “self-identify” as pederasts in the way we can say today that someone “self-identifies as lesbian”. [49] People engaged in such relationships occupied roles and functions in particular contexts, but they did not think of themselves as having a specific identity (as erastes or eromenos), nor did they wish to construct a specific culture, whether marginal or mainstream. In classical and archaic Greece, no-one affirmed their identity as a lover of the young, either as a matter of pride or of shame. [50]

17Erotic relationships of this type clearly provided matter for intense reflection and a rich seam of poetic and artistic creativity in Greek society, but it was not a case of specific or separate artistic production. Vases described as “pederastic” were to be found in contexts where female flute players could excite the senses of the same banquet guests, [51] or where various types of couples (men and women, men together, satyrs together or with maenads) were depicted on the cups that were passed around. All contributed to the glamour of the occasion. For the periods with which we are concerned, the category “pederastic” is an anachronism, constructed by scholars influenced by the “moral discourse” of later Greek authors and trapped in the classifications introduced by a scientia sexualis.

Lovers and beloved: erotic asymmetry in archaic poetry

18Given that there is no clear category which can be called “pederastic”, and no identity tied to an (anachronistic) “sexual orientation”, the most useful way of interpreting erotic relationships within non-epic Greek poetry from the archaic period is in terms of asymmetry. Indeed, practices were in reality much more varied than certain modern classifications would suggest.

19First, however, some formal precision is required. Archaic poetry is radically different from modern poetry. Because it was oral and the poet had direct contact with the audience, it can be regarded as pragmatic poetry, in the sense that it had a direct link with reality, at least with reality at the time of the first performance. Even though they were not simply a reflection of reality, poems from the archaic period can be seen as an important, indeed fundamental, source of information on the social customs of the period. [52] The context for these poems was generally aristocratic banquets, [53] events which were ideologically central to archaic and classical Greece. These were the occasions where men discussed, among other matters, political and social questions. These occasions were also, as we shall see, key moments in the education of young aristocrats.

20In Greek poetry, a difference in age is typical as much for the relationships of men with other men as for those with free women. The young bride and the beloved are more or less the same age, and the husband of the one and the lover of the other are older than their partner. This asymmetry has consequences in two key areas of Greek society; first, in aristocratic banquets, where adolescents from noble families were getting an education, as they listened to the adults’ discussions and saw their gestures, thereby acquiring the habits of their social class; second, in the marriage ceremony, the gámos where the free young woman became an adult woman and aroused legitimate and acknowledged desire. There were certainly exceptions to this norm. There might be no asymmetry of age in a given marriage, [54] or symmetry in an all-male relationship. [55] Archaic Greek poetry, however, as far as we can discover from the sources, does not speak of these exceptions. That does not, of course, mean that these types of relationships did not exist in archaic Greece, merely that they were of no social interest to the participants in aristocratic banquets. The only relevant example which can be cited is lines 1062 ff. of the Theognidea [56] “In youth a man may sleep all night with one of his age (homêlix) and satisfy his amorous desires.” [57] This passage is, nevertheless, problematic. In particular, the Greek word homêlix can signify either a man or a woman. Since the circumstances in which this verse was first performed are unknown, it is indeed the case that homêlix might refer to a liaison between two men of the same age. But it could equally well refer to a woman, without this necessarily implying an egalitarian relationship. It could refer to a liaison with a courtesan of the same age. Moreover homêlix could simply mean that the partners were both young. ‘Of his [own] age’ needs to be understood in a wider sense. [58]

21Youth, above all, is the ideal time for érōs, as the poet Mimnermus emphasizes in these lines: “Reciprocated relationships (philótēs), [59] honey-sweet gifts, bed… are the desired flowers of youth (hḗbē), for men (andrásin) and for women (gynaixín).’’ [60] There is a parallel passage in the Theognidea. There, the poet invokes Cypris, asking her to free him from the cares of love and give him wisdom, linking this to the end of youth (hḗbē). [61] It is thus apparent that youth is the age which is susceptible to érōs. The lover is a young adult (néos). [62] Where does this leave the asymmetry that is generally considered to be obligatory for homoerotic relationships between an adolescent and an adult man?

22In the verses of the Theognidea, the beloved and the lover are often celebrated and portrayed as having fixed and unequal roles. The beloved is often depicted as not being dominated by Aphrodite’s actions, even though he possesses her gifts. In lines 1299-1304, the beloved is accused of fleeing from the lover, who has to follow him. [63] To persuade the paîs to stop, he is reminded that the gifts of Cypris do not last; the flower (ánthos) of adolescence wilts rapidly [64] and the paîs should think about the time when he too will suffer the torment and agonies that Aphrodite-Cypris decrees.

23In this context, the arrival of a beard signals the end of the possibility of being a beloved: [65] in line 1327 and the following, the poet of the Theognidea insists that he will praise the paîs for as long as his cheek is smooth. The absence of a beard is a feature which causes the paîs and the parthénos, the two objects of desire for néoi, to resemble each other. In lines 1238-1294 of the Theognidea, for example, the paîs who runs away from the lover is compared to the mythical figure of Atalanta, a parthénos of marriageable age who flees her suitors. [66] Equally, Anacreon, a poet of the sixth century BCE, mostly active in Samos and Athens, says that the boy he loves has the gaze of a girl. [67] In sexual affairs, it thus seems that the absence of hairs, and, in particular, of a beard, removes any distinction between the young girl and the young boy.

24The fact that the possibility of being a beloved is fleeting is linked to the role this plays in a beloved’s relationship with his older lover. If the lover is overpowered by the desire which the paîs arouses, [68] and demands cháris (in the sense of a favour, in a relationship of mutual exchange) then the paîs should be the donor. [69] Lines 1263-1266 sketch out clearly the reciprocity of the pederastic relationship: in spite of its asymmetry, cháris requires that the paîs makes a response in return for the benefits received. These benefits include the presents which lovers give to their beloved, but also the good advice which the young adult gives to the adolescent, hence the educational value of this sexual relationship. However, sympotic poetry often sings about how the paîs does not respond to the demands of the lover.

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26Several elements of sexual asymmetry are clearly evident here: the lover, overpowered by loving desire, seeks the beloved who does not respond to his requests. Equally the passage could be understood as referring to a desirable delay: the paîs should not give in to érōs straight away, even if erotic reciprocity is the eventual goal of the relationship between lover and beloved. Lines 1319-1322 of the Theognidea, which raise the question of “persuasion” of the beloved, offer another insight into the roles of lover and beloved:

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28Here there is a clear distinction between the paîs and the néoi, to whom the boy is an object of concern. What is important about these lines is, first, the fact that the boy is depicted as an almost inert element. His beauty which arouses desire affects the lovers through their gaze (the word eîdos “looks” is linked to the verb eideîn = to see). Second, it is clear that the néoi are overcome by desire and it is they who appear as the active elements of the scene. They are attempting to persuade the beloved to establish a relationship of philótēs (reciprocity is implied by the word cháris in line 1321). In this poem, the portrayal of the paîs is almost identical to that of the young wife in an epithalamium by Sappho, fragment 112. Both, thanks to Aphrodite, are marked out by their beauty and the desire they arouse in those who see them. The audience is of a similar kind in both cases: for the paîs, they are néoi, and for the young wife, it is someone who is about to lose the status of néos, a young man of an age to marry. [72]

29In this erotic context, the question of persuasion is crucial. In lines 1235-1238 of the Theognidea, the poet seeks to convince the paîs that he is not compelled to do what he does not wish. Asymmetry, thus, does not mean the paîs remains inactive, subject to the desires of the lover. Not only does the paîs have to be persuaded to grant his cháris, but he may indeed have his own “appetites”.

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31Evidently erotic asymmetry does not imply that the paîs is an inactive element. If he is generally portrayed as the one who arouses desire, runs away, and only grants his cháris, whereas the lover has to pursue him, overcome by érōs, and compelled to ask for reciprocation, equally the beloved may also be susceptible to the charm of the one who loves him, and, as in traditional erotic imagery, be like a horse seeking both its rider and the pastures which the rider can offer. [74]

32What, therefore, was the social status of the paîs at an aristocratic banquet? It is worth noting that adolescents remained seated on chairs, or occasionally waited on the adults as cupbearers. This is significant, because guests normally lay on couches during the meal. [75] The Theognidea provides important evidence on this point. At lines 27-38, which are very informative about the education of aristocrats in the archaic period, the poet advises the paîs to make a habit of visiting the agathoí, the nobility, since he will be able to learn good things from people who are good. The poet urges the adolescent to eat and drink with noble and good men, and, above all, to sit with them (lines 33 ff. metà toîsin híze). [76] If, as seems probable, the banquet with couches had already been introduced into Greece at the time of the Theognidea, the fact that a paîs would remain seated may denote the difference in social status between adults and adolescents.

33The framework suggested here for men’s experience of érōs involves on the one hand desire for parthénoi and on the other hand, for paîdes. Both are undoubtedly asymmetrical relationships. Nevertheless, within these relationships, the element of persuasion is fundamental. Archilochus, a seventh-century poet from Paros, tells in one poem [77] of the seduction of a parthénos who is the daughter of his old enemy Lycambes and sister to his former fiancée Neobule. The speaker’s intention is to persuade the parthénos: he mentions her mother favourably, and, to show how he respects her, he explains that his goal is not the divine thing (line 10 theîon chrêma, that is, full sexual intercourse), [78] since the other pleasures young men (line 9 néoisin andrásin) enjoy will suffice for him. He invites the girl to be persuaded to fulfil what he is asking her for (line 19). It is clear that here the parthénos is portrayed as herself having her own desires. A similar situation appears in a poem by Sappho, [79] where the speaker admits to her mother that she can no longer weave at her loom, because she is overcome by her feelings of desire for a paîs. [80]

Feminine symmetry?

34Was érōs between women different from that between men? There are considerable risks of over-interpretation of the evidence, because of the longstanding anachronistic, longstanding assumptions regarding female homoerotocism… One typical example of these anachronistic approaches is that female érōs is alleged to be symmetrical, in contrast to the asymmetry of male érōs. Some interpretations argue that, outside the inevitable domination typical of patriarchal societies, Greek women experienced erotic relationships in which there was complete reciprocity and genuine affection. [81]

35This approach is too rigid, and it is only necessary to look at a few documents to disprove it. Alcman, the Spartan poet from the seventh century BCE, composed, among other works, poems intended to be sung by choruses of girls. They sang of their admiration and erotic attraction towards several female personages. This erotic attraction, which appears in two contexts, is expressed in situations which are the exact inverse of what occurs in the erotic poems said to be pederastic. In fragment 1, [82] the poetic voice is in turn a parthénos, and then the members of the chorus (line 68 and line 99) [83]. The choragus, Hagesichora, is portrayed as being at a higher level, especially with regard to her beauty and her singing ability. [84] Nothing is said about her age, but her function means she could be the oldest of the chorus members. [85] The praises of her beauty may suggest that the chorus experiences érōs for her, but if that is the case it is the higher ranking person who is desired by her inferiors. [86]

36In Alcman’s fragment 3, the situation is similar. The speaker, who is certainly young, is inferior in status to Astymeloisa, for she speaks of herself as a supplicant (line 81); Astymeloisa, on the other hand, “is the object of the people’s solicitude” (line 74 mélēma dámōi). [87] She is delicate (line 68), is compared to a bud (line 68) and possesses cháris (line 71). What is interesting, however, is that Astymeloisa, desired by the “I” who speaks, does not respond to her. [88] As in fragment 1, the one with the higher status is portrayed as the object of the desire of her inferiors. This problematic situation is perhaps the consequence of the fact that men were members of the audience for these two poems. In men’s eyes, girls are always the objects of desire. The point of view of the speakers of the poems thus in fact expresses that of the audience as well.

37The case of Sappho’s poems is different, however, since some of them presuppose an entirely female audience. [89] Fragments 22 and 96 can only be understood if there is an asymmetry in the érōs. In these, Sappho is not a participant in the erotic relationship but simply observes the connection between two women. Here it is important to use the term “women”, because the idea that Sappho’s “friends” (phílai) were all young girls may reflect contemporary prejudices or over-interpretation. In fragment 94, for example, Sappho’s interlocutor is often said by commentators to be a parthénos who is leaving Sappho to be married, but there is nothing in the text to support this supposition. In any case, Fragment 1 (in which the poet addresses Aphrodite) depicts an erotic situation and a language similar to that found in the male homoerotic relationships about which the poets of the archaic period sang. In Sappho’s poem, in fact, the person who loves is overcome by desire (line 3 ff.) and the person who is loved does not respond to the feelings she arouses (line 18). Eros is a trap, a dólos (line 2) and the lack of reciprocation is an injustice, an adikía. [90] Persuasion is a necessary element (line 15), and, finally, erotic relationships imply flight and pursuit, with an exchange of gifts (lines 21-22).

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39This verse seems unspecific, since the verbs in lines 21 and 23 have no direct object. Aphrodite, who is speaking, gives assurances that the beloved girl [91] will not only stop running away, and will accept the gifts she is offered, but will actually pursue, and proffer gifts in her turn. Two possibilities exist: either this passage is saying that the beloved will one day find herself in the same position as the person who is in love, [92] so what is foretold here is a sort of revenge for the lover, [93] or on the other hand the goddess is promising that in the future there will be complete reciprocity between the person who is in love and the person who is the object of this philótēs. [94] The first option, however, seems improbable, because it is not consistent with the request that Sappho makes to Aphrodite: she asks her to accomplish “what her heart desires should be accomplished” (lines 26 ff.), [95] that is, that her beloved be willing to enter into a relationship of philótēs with her. [96]

40The interpretation which suggests that there is complete reciprocity does not, however, imply that there is symmetry. Philótēs is a form of relationship which often involves asymmetrical reciprocity. Given that a paîs, whether male or female, may not only receive gifts from the lover but also grant cháris, and equally that a paîs may seek out and desire the lover, [97] it may be useful to compare erotic philótēs and relations of companionship, hetaireía. Hetaireía is in fact simply a variant of the philótēs relationship. [98] Yet one relationship regarded as a paradigm of warrior companionship, that between Achilles and Patroclus, demonstrates that reciprocity between the partners was not based on equality of age or of social status. Patroclus, who is Achilles’ servant [99] and is even frightened of him, [100] is older than him, [101] but not as strong. Nevertheless, despite his higher rank, Achilles abandons his sulking to avenge the death of Patroclus, the companion who expressed the wish to be buried in the same tomb as his phílos hetaîros. [102]

41The texts which provide evidence for sexuality in antiquity are very often analysed by scholars of the classical and archaic period through the lens of notions of symmetry and asymmetry in erotic relationships. However, this analysis is often hampered by anachronistic projections of understandings of sexual identity. What the texts reveal is that in ancient Greece, érōs apparently establishes an asymmetric relationship, whatever the gender of the participants. Desire results in a chase, a flight, rejection, and expectation. The verses of the poets of the archaic period, whether female (Sappho) or male (Alcman, the Theognidea, Anacreon) often overturn the dominance in the relationship. Reciprocity is what érōs aspires to, and, in this configuration, asymmetry and reciprocity are compatible.

42It can therefore be said that certain interpretations have often painted an overly static picture of the reality of the practices of érōs and of sexuality in archaic Greece. These practices were much more varied and complex than are modern concepts about the social relationships of sex, or than any notion of equivalence between “sexual penetration” and “social hierarchy”. Notions of symmetry or asymmetry, of equality or domination tell us less about the Greeks than about the scholars who study them. To the question “what is at stake in érōs”, a Greek man (or woman) of the archaic period would probably have quite simply replied “reciprocity (philótēs)”.