Women Silenced in Theodore Prodromos’ Rhodanthe and Dosikles

Theodore Prodromos’ Rhodanthe and Dosikles is a twelfth-century tale concerning the fight for survival by the eponymous unconventional lovers' two pirate imprisonments and the violent rivalry between their captors. The tale is written in a highly stylized language composed primarily of ethopoeias (speech in character) and ekphrases (descriptions with vivid imagery). Though ethopoeias are more frequently used to drive the plot forward, the ekphrases also provide pivotal information that foreshadows plot points and character behavior. In particular, the tale’s opening ekphrasis of Rhodanthe, the perceived damsel in distress under Dosikles' protection, emphasizes features that place women as inanimate objects existing for the desire and pleasure of men, a common feature in the portrayal of women in ancient and medieval stories that is often overlooked by distractions of superficial romantic narratives. By envisioning Rhodanthe as a stationary object, the ekphrasis plays an important role in presaging the tale’s subsequent appeal to the male gaze and the self-proclaimed male right to possess women without their consent.

In Decoding the Ancient Novel, Shadi Bartsch asserts, “because the role of [ekphrasis] in the ancient romances has long been considered a merely decorative or dilatory one… a reader…dismisses their descriptive elements as mere rhetorical embellishment” (Bartsch 171). Nevertheless, as exemplified by the ekphrasis in question, one must consider the effects of these visual descriptions, intended or otherwise, and the interpretations that arise from them. For millennia, several theories on vision have been proposed to help understand how one object is perceived by the individual looking at it. In David C. Lindberg’s investigation of the theories of vision, he explains that the Stoics understood vision as related to their conception of pneuma, “an all-pervasive active agent composed of a mixture of air and fire,” and that an optical pneuma “flows from the seat of consciousness.” Lindberg proposes that this theory of vision focuses attention “on the medium between the observer and the visible object,” and not occurring “by the actual emanation of pieces of the visible object to the eye, but by qualitative changes produced by the object in a medium suitably prepared to receive them” (Lindberg 9-10, emphasis added). That is, it is not just the function of the eye itself or the corporeal body being perceived, but what physically or subconsciously lies in between the sender of the visual message and its receiver. Taking an allegorical approach to this proposal, the aim of analyzing the effects of the ekphrasis in Rhodanthe and Dosikles is to showcase how the linguistic approach to describing Rhodanthe produces not only a visual representation of the maiden but also a limited perception of the character’s personhood due to the conditions of women at the time that the tale was written. 

To begin with the ekphrasis itself, the description places Rhodanthe in the role of an immobile, sculpture-like object rather than a real person. The tale starts by describing Rhodanthe as

an august figure, a replica of a divine image,

…the congruence of her every limb was consistent,

Each dextrously linked to the other

…a mouth that was quite narrow and closely compressed;

Elbow, arm and harmony of fingers

Were wrought by a natural craftsman… 

(Prodromos, I.40, 43-4, 56-7, emphasis added)

Following Bartch’s suggestion that ekphrases reveal more than mere artistic embellishment, one must analyze the italicized words closely in the excerpt above, which, at least per the translator’s preference, indicates a deliberate choice to emphasize features that emulate a sculpture rather than a person. If Rhodanthe is the “replica” of a divine image and her body “wrought by a natural craftsman,” she is thus perceived not as an organic being, but as a piece of art whose value, as shall be revealed later in the analysis of this tale, exists mainly for the pleasure of male observers. A similar observation is made by Bartsch in her analysis of Charicleia in the Aethiopica: 

“a […] sight strikes the pirates’ eyes: a girl of divine beauty perched on a rock nearby, armed with a bow, crowned with laurel, and sitting absolutely still. […] the scene is described almost as if it were painted: a stillness lies over everything, all movement is arrested, Charicleia […] sits on her rock like a statue, until finally Theagenes speaks and breaks the spell.” (Bartsch 45-6) 

Here, too, the depiction of the woman is one of “divine beauty,” “sitting absolutely still… as if it were painted,” for the marvel and pleasure of male observers, that is, the pirates who stare in awe. Similar to Rhodanthe’s ekphrasis, the description of Charicleia illustrates woman’s position as stagnant, an object of art to be gawked upon by the pirates surrounding.

Just as significant, the description of Rhodanthe’s mouth expands on her lack of agency. While having a small, compressed mouth may simply reflect the beauty standard of that time, it also foreshadows the maiden’s silent stance for the rest of the tale. Throughout the tale, Rhodanthe mostly does not speak. When she does, she is only well received when expressing her love and gratitude for Dosikles, though when expressing any personal concerns, she is instantly shut down by her guardian, such as when she feels anxious and self-conscious about being around other men (Prodromos, II.57-88). Rhodanthe, therefore, is reduced to a passive character whose desires are irrelevant when compared to her male counterparts’ wishes and preferences, both from the pirates’ perspective in who “owns” the prisoners or who gets to defile Rhodanthe’s innocence, and from Dosikles’ perspective on the best course of action for escape.

Furthermore, the ekphrasis prefaces how the continuous emphasis on Rhodanthe’s beauty ultimately hinders the establishment of her own personhood. Throughout the tale, not much is known about Rhodanthe as a person. The reader only knows that she comes from an affluent family, that she is praised for her beauty and grace, and that her family had promised her to another man before Dosikles inserted himself into her life—but that is the extent of her personhood. Undoubtedly, one might think that the story of one of the titled characters might be told by her “own” words, but her story is only relayed by Dosikles in relation to his own experience (II.185-439). Such a reductive portrayal of women is certainly not limited to Prodromos’ tale and can be seen in several other ancient and medieval stories. In Digenis Akritas, for example, both the Emir and his son Basil’s wives, though they seem to have more agency than Rhodanthe, are mostly praised and valued for their beauty. Similarly, Chrétien de Troyes’ Erec and Enide highlights a culture of women’s bodies being ‘offered’ by men to other men, such as noble vassals offering their own wives and daughters to kiss King Arthur, the culture of political marriage, or merely by Enide being deemed ‘worthy’ solely because of her beauty and obedient character. In that way, the value of female characters is reduced to their beauty and obedience rather than their personal histories, including their flaws, virtues, desires, or intellect.

In contrast, male beauty is valued at physical strength. When telling the story of how he met Rhodanthe, Dosikles again highlights the physical features of the maiden that entranced him upon laying eyes on her. To convince his audience that he was worthy of Rhodanthe’s attention, Dosikles puts himself in the line of comparison, declaring that

Rhodanthe’s complexion is beautiful;

[…] but neither is my face besmirched,

Nor is my appearance strange and repulsive.

For masculine beauty has a different quality of steadiness,

Powerful strength, bravery in battle,

Unshakeable might, a sturdy right arm,

A steadfast resistance in the face of battle,

[…] If someone were to make a judgment on beauty by masculine standards,

He would consider me handsome to look at.

(II.246, 251-6, 259-60)

In this speech, the juxtaposition between male and female beauty is made most evident. While female beauty relies on delicate features and a predisposition for subordination, male beauty lies not in the “congruence of limbs” or being the "replica of divine image,” but rather physical strength and a predisposition for violence. 

Moreover, this violence functions as a tool not only to defeat enemies but also to take possession of women who are deemed worthy, that is, beautiful. After describing Rhodanthe’s beauty, Dosikles reflects, “Who is so blind, who so despoiled of his wits, / Who so ungrateful for the gods’ divine gift / That he cannot honour and take possession of beauty?” (II.218-20, emphasis added). Though the italicized phrase may seem innocent at first, its vicious truth is revealed in Dosikles’ subsequent revelation, where Dosikles confesses to his audience the truth about how he and Rhodanthe found themselves imprisoned together. When he first saw Rhodanthe walking to the bath house, he instantly became infatuated with her and devised a plan to conquer her. Because he knew she was promised to another man, the conquest could not be achieved by asking for her parents’ permission to marry her but had to be done by force. First, he considers entering her chamber and raping her but fears retaliation if found out (II.286-90), which leads him to consider a more elaborate plan:

[…] this is what seemed best

[…] to abduct her, willingly or not,

As she as going, as her habit was, to the bath-house.

[…] So, on my own and finding the girl on her own,

Picking her up from the ground and taking her in my arms,

I went down to the sea with all my speed.

(II.436, 440, 449-51)

In other words, Rhodanthe is kidnapped by Dosikles for the mere reason that the latter could not see her beauty and not “take possession of it.” Similarly, Gobryas falls in love with Rhodanthe and must compete with the ‘virtuous’ Dosikles. He tries to woo Rhodanthe, but after being rejected by her, Gobryas “changed from his approach as suppliant / to a more brutal method, / […] for he decided to use force by night / and to have intercourse with the girl against her will” (III.266-70). He, too, finds that he has a right to claim Rhodanthe for himself. Were it not for the battle between the pirates Bryaxes and Mystilos that leads to Gobryas’ demise, he would have sexually assaulted Rhodanthe. Luckily for the maiden, this time fate worked in her favor.

Because men are assumed to have a right to possess women, Rhodanthe’s kidnapping is thus overlooked and overshadowed by a Stockholm Syndrome–like spell that she seems to be under. Rhodanthe and Dosikles could be considered an “unconventional” couple because they are not officially together by any standards at the beginning of the tale—they are not married, nor do they kiss until toward the end of the tale. As the events unfold, the impression is that the two operate under an equally symbiotic relationship. However, the hidden message behind the beauty of the verse is that Rhodanthe has no option but to go along with whatever Dosikles’ plans are. When Dosikles kidnaps her and runs toward the sea, the maiden is forcibly taken away from her home and family and led directly to her imprisonment. As unfortunate as her kidnapping is, Dosikles is less evil in comparison to the pirates, and because the young man is so devoted to her and constantly voices his love for her, it is easy to forget that he is the reason why Rhodanthe finds herself in that situation in the first place. Her co-dependence and eventual love for Dosikles is not, therefore, pure and genuine, but rather resulting from a survival state of mind.

Once again, the narrative of raping and kidnapping is not foreign to other ancient and medieval stories. In Digenis Akritas, Basil feels deserving of taking possession of a girl whose loved one he just saved from robbers, and the foul act is excused by placing the blame on the “help from Satan and my careless soul” (Hull V.238). Similarly, Basil’s mother comes to the scene when the Emir “fell suddenly on the General’s house […] taking as prisoner a lovely girl” (Hull I.57, 61) who then becomes his obedient wife and whose power is only granted by means of connection to the Emir himself. In Erec and Enide, though Enide is not kidnapped by Erec, she is given away due to the culture of political and ‘dutiful’ marriage for which she has no say in determining her future. In all three cases, the silence of these women and the tragedy of their situation is overlooked by an ostensible romantic narrative perceived mainly through the male perception. Furthermore, the portrayal of women in these stories relies on how men view female beauty and expect obedience and compliance when women are taken by force.

In essence, the power of the ekphrasis in Prodromos’ tale Rhodanthe and Dosikles functions as yet another testimony of men’s demeaning and patronizing portrayal of women in literature hiding behind a thin veil of romance. The ‘vision’ depicted therein is one that reinforces the ‘ideal’ woman, one that historically has been limited to beauty and subservience, always overpowered by a male figure. The romance, viewed mainly from the male perspective, distracts the reader from the issue that lies beneath the nature of the ill-fated couple. Women being primarily represented in this manner should come as no surprise, but modern readers must be wary that the perpetuation of women’s underprivileged position in society may occur not only in real life but through the powerful force of art and literature. Though the technique of the verse is undeniably beautiful and compelling, no amount of well-selected words or shallow romantic narrative should be able to conceal that the women in these stories, though they are characters, are also representations of women’s reality.