Have Scholars Really Only Just Now Figured Out That Sappho’s Supposed Husband’s Name Is Dirty Joke?

As many readers are already aware, I am a queer woman who is currently a graduate student in Ancient Greek and Roman Studies. For a couple of years now, I have been following the subreddit r/SapphoAndHerFriend, which is named after the ancient Greek lyric poet Sappho, who is known for her homoerotic work, and is dedicated to showcasing humorous or mildly infuriating examples of queer erasure. It’s an amusing space. Unfortunately, people are constantly making posts in the subreddit about Sappho that are, shall we say, factually dubious. For instance, users frequently make posts in which they make fun of “historians” for having supposedly believed for ages in total earnestness that Sappho had a husband named “Kerkylas of Andros,” which they say translates as “Dick Allcock from the Isle of Man.”

Posts of this kind are a frequent occurrence, but this one happens to be the most recent. These posts regularly ignore the fact that the claim they mock “historians” for having supposedly believed only occurs in one extremely late, notoriously uncritical premodern source and modern scholars have generally recognized it as an obscene joke for nearly 170 years. Additionally, I think that people should be aware of some rather discomforting information about the man whose translation of the name they keep sharing.

Background: Sappho in Athenian comedy

As I previously discussed in this post I wrote back in August 2021, in the late fifth and fourth centuries BCE, a fictional parody of Sappho became an extremely popular stock character in Athenian comedies. Although only a small number of fragments of comedies that featured Sappho as a character have survived to the present day, references in surviving works attest that the comic playwrights Ameipsias, Amphis, Antiphanes, Diphilos, Ephippos, and Timokles, who all flourished in Athens during this period, all wrote comedies with the title Sappho.

Because so little information about the comedies themselves has survived, it is impossible to say much for certain about how they portrayed her. Nonetheless, the surviving evidence (which is admittedly quite limited) seems to indicate that these comedies depicted her as a caricature of a hyper-erotic woman who is constantly passionately lusting after various men.

These comedies seem to have exerted an outsized influence on audiences’ perceptions of Sappho as both a historical and literary figure during the Hellenistic and Roman Periods. Notably, later authors who were desperate to find any biographical information they could about early Greek poets sometimes resorted to relying on old Athenian comedies as historical sources.

Unfortunately, because the comedies themselves have not survived and ancient authors don’t always cite their sources, it is often difficult or impossible to identify precisely which statements that Hellenistic and Roman authors make about Sappho are based on her actual poetry and which ones are based on her portrayal in Athenian comedies.

ABOVE: Photograph from Wikimedia Commons showing a Roman marble portrait head dating to the early first century BCE, based on an earlier Greek original, depicting the Athenian comic playwright Diphilos, who is attested to have written a comedy titled Sappho

Kerkylas of Andros: a name only attested in the Souda

The general pervasiveness of the story that scholars once seriously believed that Sappho had a husband named Kerkylas of Andros on the internet stands in sharp contrast to the claim’s meagre attestation in surviving premodern sources. In fact, this claim only occurs in exactly one source: the entry for Sappho in the Souda, which is an encyclopedia in the Greek language that was compiled in the tenth century CE—over a millennium and a half after Sappho’s lifetime.

Multiple compilers most likely contributed to the Souda. Although nothing reliable is known about their specific identities, they were certainly Christian speakers of the Greek language and they relied heavily on earlier Greek-language commentaries and reference works, mostly ones composed by Christian authors. They were also notoriously uncritical in their use of sources, frequently did not cite which sources they relied on, and frequently incorporated entries and passages from earlier compilations wholesale without attribution.

The Souda is a valuable resource because it preserves much information about antiquity that is not found in any other sources and that would otherwise be lost. Nonetheless, for the reasons I have just described, it is also a source that scholars must treat with immense caution, since it is often difficult or impossible to identify where its information comes from and a great deal of what it says, especially about the lives of ancient poets, is simply garbage.

The entry on Sappho states, as translated for the Souda On Line:

“She was married to a most wealthy man, Kerkylas, who operated from Andros, and she had a daughter by him, who was named Kleis.”

Unsurprisingly, the Souda does not cite any sources for this claim, but modern scholars have generally recognized that it must ultimately originate from a joke in one of the now-lost Athenian comedies about Sappho. The reason why we can be so sure of this is because the name Kerkylas of Andros is an obscene pun.

ABOVE: First page from a printed edition of the Souda encyclopedia from the fifteenth or sixteenth century CE

The name Kerkylas derives from the Greek noun κέρκος (kérkos), which means “tail” and is also an obscene word for penis, roughly equivalent to the English word dick. Meanwhile, Andros is a real Greek island that lies at the northern end of the Kyklades, which are a group of islands in the south Aegean. Its name, however, sounds like ἀνδρός (andrós), which is the genitive singular form of the third-declension masculine noun ἀνήρ (anḗr), meaning “man.” Thus, literally translated into English, the name Kerkylas of Andros means “Dick of Man.”

At some point, either the anonymous compiler of the Souda entry themself—or, more likely, the author of an earlier reference work on which the Souda compiler relied—evidently read one of the ancient comedies about Sappho, encountered a joke of some kind about her having a husband named “Kerkylas of Andros,” and mistook this as a serious, historical claim about the name of the poet’s husband.

ABOVE: Map from Wikimedia Commons showing the location of Andros in the south Aegean

Scholarly recognition of Kerkylas of Andros as a joke name

Modern scholars have generally not been nearly so oblivious as the Souda compiler; they have recognized the true nature of the name Kerkylas of Andros for the past nearly 170 years. The Scottish scholar William Mure already points out that the name is a joke in his A Critical History of the Language and Literature of Ancient Greece, volume three, which was published in London in 1854, on page 278:

“Whether Sappho was ever married is doubtful, but the balance of evidence is strongly on the negative side of the question. She is familiarly alluded to by Horace and other classics as the ‘Lesbian maiden;’ nor is there any notice of a husband but on a single recent and very questionable authority, where the broadly indecent etymology of the names, both of the individual on whom the honor is conferred and of his birthplace, sufficiently proves them fictitious. Both titles are inventions, there can be little doubt, of the comic authors above alluded to, satirically reflecting on the weaker points of Sappho’s character.”

This paragraph was published in 1854!

ABOVE: Portrait of the Scottish classical scholar William Mure, who recognized the name Kerkylas of Andros as a joke as early as 1854

All the respected German classical scholars of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries also recognized the name Kerkylas of Andros as an obvious joke. For instance, as the Reddit user gentlybeepingheart keenly points out in a reply to the post I linked at the beginning of this article, the German philologist Hans Flach writes the following in his monograph Geschichte der griechischen Lyrik (History of Greek Lyric), published in 1884, on page 490:

“Dass der Name Kerkylas aus der griechischen Komödie stammt, in welcher Sappho leider zu oft Gegenstand boshafter Angriffe gewesen war, geht aus seiner obscoenen bedeutung hervor.”

For those who don’t read German, this means:

“That the name Kerkylas derives from Greek comedy, in which Sappho was sadly too often an object of malicious attack, is obvious from its obscene meaning.”

ABOVE: Portrait of the German philologist Hans Flach, printed in the second edition of his book Der deutsche Professor der Gegenwart (1886)

Similarly, the eminent German philologist Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (lived 1848 – 1931) writes in his monograph Sappho und Simonides: Untersuchungen über griechische Lyriker, published in 1913, on page 24:

“Aus dieser Sphaere einer im Grunde harmlosen Erfindung wird auch der Gatte Κερκόλας Ἄνδριος stammen mit dem durchsichtigen Namen Virbius Caudinus. Daß er in der Vita allein erscheint, deutet darauf, daß kein Name des Gatten in den Liedern vorkam.”

This means:

“From this domain also derives the basically harmless fabrication of the husband Κερκόλας Ἄνδριος [Kerkolas of Andros] with the transparent name Virbius Caudinus. That he alone appears in the biographical tradition therefore indicates that no name of her husband occurred in her songs.”

Here, instead of translating the joke into German, his native language, Wilamowitz decorously attempts to render the joke into Latin as Virbius Caudinus. Virbius is attested in Roman literature as a name for the mythical hero Hippolytos, the son of Theseus the king of Athens and the Amazon queen Hippolyte, but it also echoes the Latin word vir, meaning “man.” Meanwhile, Caudinus literally means “from Caudium,” which was a town in southern Italy, but it echoes the Latin word cauda, which means “tail” or “penis.”

ABOVE: Photo of Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Muellendorff, taken around 1917 or 1918

Even standard reference works of classical studies already noted that the name Kerkylas of Andros is a joke over one hundred years ago. The German classical philologist Wolfgang Aly writes in his 1920 entry on Sappho for Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, also known as the Pauly-Wissowa, a standard German-language encyclopedia of classical studies:

“Der Name der Mannes (zu κέρκος cauda und aus ‘Andros’ zu ἀνήρ) ist Komödienerfindung.”

In English:

“The name of her husband (at κέρκος cauda and from ‘Andros’ at ἀνήρ) is a comic invention.”

Even the translation of Kerkylas of Andros into English as “Dick Allcock from the Isle of Man” that people on the internet keep quoting is far from new. The American classical scholar Holt N. Parker, who was a professor of classics at the University of Cincinnati from 1991 to 2016, coined that translation for his paper “Sappho Schoolmistress,” which he originally presented orally at the 1991 annual meeting of the American Philological Association (now renamed the Society for Classical Studies) in Chicago and later published in 1993 in the journal Transactions of the American Philological Association 123: 309–351.

In other words, that exact translation has been floating around for the past thirty years now.

Parker’s problematic later history

Sadly, this brings me to the final issue that pertains to the ubiquitous posts in r/SapphoAndHerFriend touting the translation “Dick Allcock from the Isle of Man,” which is that users in the subreddit should probably be more aware of who they are actually quoting.

As some readers may be aware, the discipline of classics has had a very long and frequently sordid history. Many prominent scholars in the field have been despicable human beings. Notably, Wilamowitz, whom I mentioned earlier, was a racist, classist, rabidly antisemitic German nationalist. Although he was never a member of the Nazi Party and he died over a year before Adolf Hitler became Chancellor of Germany, his later writings especially display many disturbing ideological affinities with the German völkisch movement, of which the Nazi Party was a part (Flaig, “Towards ‘Rassenhygiene,’” 105–127).

Wolfgang Aly, whose article on Sappho in the Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft I have also cited above, was a full-on member of the Nazi Party. In fact, he officially joined the Nazi Party on December 1st, 1931—only a few months after Wilamowitz’s death and still over a year before Adolf Hitler became Chancellor of Germany—and was the very first faculty member of the University of Freiburg to join the party officially.

Despite the fact that no shortage of evil people have flourished in the discipline of classics, Holt N. Parker is a strong contender for the prize of the most truly vile person to hold a tenured position in the field within my own lifetime. You see, the reason why Parker stopped being a professor at the University of Cincinnati in 2016 is because, according to a Justice Department press release, on March 15th of that year, acting under a search warrant, FBI agents conducted a search of his home, in which they recovered a damaged flash drive that contained nearly one thousand image and video files of child sexual abuse material, including at least one that included an infant victim.

Parker confessed that, for years, he had been downloading, viewing, and trading child sexual abuse material online “nearly every day,” that he had recently downloaded the videos and images on the flash drive off the internet, and that, when he found out that officials were searching his home, he had attempted to destroy the flash drive to destroy the evidence. He pled guilty to possessing and trading child sexual abuse material and was sentenced to four years in prison for this offense in January 2017.

Far more information is publicly available about Parker’s sordid and illicit activities than what I have said, but I will not repeat that information here. Readers are welcome to seek it out on their own, but I will warn them that it is truly disturbing, horrific stuff. Even reading about it is enough to make my skin crawl and make me feel like I can never be clean again.

Despite the uncomfortability of the matter, I feel (following the lead of the ancient historian Roel Konijnendijk, who wrote an excellent answer to a question in r/AskHistorians two years ago that dealt with this same topic) that readers should at least be aware of Parker’s history so they can make an informed decision on whether or not they wish to continue to quote and share his translation.

Works cited

  • Aly, Wolfgang. “Sappho.” Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft II.2357-85. 1920.
  • Flach, Hans. Geschichte der Griechischen Lyrik. Tübingen: Verlag und Druck von Franz Fues, 1884.
  • Flaig, Egon. “Towards ‘Rassenhygiene’: Wilamowitz and the German New Right.” In Out of Arcadia: Classics and Politics in Germany in the Age of Burckhardt, Nietzsche and Wilamowitz, edited by Ingo Gildenhard and Martin Ruehl, 105–27. Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Supplement 79. London: Institute of Classical Studies, 2003.
  • Mure, William. A Critical History of the Language and Literature of Antient Greece. Vol. 3. London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1854.
  • Parker, Holt N. “Sappho Schoolmistress.” Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-) 123 (1993): 309–51.
  • von Wilamowitz-Muellendorff, Ulrich. Sappho und Simonides: Untersuchungen über griechische Lyriker. Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1913.

Author: Spencer McDaniel

I am a historian mainly interested in ancient Greek cultural and social history. Some of my main historical interests include ancient religion and myth; gender and sexuality; ethnicity; and interactions between Greeks and foreign cultures. I hold a BA in history and classical studies (Ancient Greek and Latin languages and literature), with departmental honors in history, from Indiana University Bloomington (May 2022) and an MA in Ancient Greek and Roman Studies from Brandeis University (May 2024).

25 thoughts on “Have Scholars Really Only Just Now Figured Out That Sappho’s Supposed Husband’s Name Is Dirty Joke?”

  1. I mean, if it was a source of confusion from the Athenian playwrites (500 BC) to 1854, I would say that qualifies as historians “taking ages to figure out the mistake”. Or even from the Souda to 1854, could be considered ages. It’s certainly a mistake with a longer history than it’s correction has.

    1. The problem with this objection is that, for most of the time from the Souda‘s composition to the nineteenth century, there weren’t very many people reading it in the first place.

      From the time of its composition in the tenth century until the fifteenth or sixteenth century, the Souda circulated exclusively in manuscript form. Like most encyclopedias, it is an extremely long text that would have been very labor-intensive and expensive to copy, which means that copies were scarce and only a handful of people had access to them. Even people who did have access to the Souda generally didn’t read it all the way through, but rather only consulted specific entries they found relevant, in the same way that people in the twentieth century who had access to the Encyclopedia Britannica generally didn’t read the whole work all the way through.

      The earliest printed edition of the Souda was made in the fifteenth or sixteenth century CE and, even after that, copies weren’t especially widely circulated. The German scholar Ludolph Küster published the first critical edition of the text in 1705.

  2. You mentioned here and there on your site you being queer / trans — do you intend to have a post about it? I’m especially interested if it has some sort of connection to your field of study…

    1. For a long time, I considered writing a post explaining my personal history with queerness and my journey to coming out as trans, but, after much consideration, I decided that it is best for me not to publish too much information about that topic online where anyone can read it. Unfortunately, there are many, many people on the internet who deeply, obsessively despise all trans people, especially trans women specifically, and who devote extraordinary amounts of their time and energy to bullying, harassing, and terrorizing anyone they can find who is openly trans online. I didn’t even work up the courage to mention that I was trans on this blog until after I had been living openly as a woman for a whole year in real life, to a large extent because I didn’t want to face online harassment.

      I’ve only mentioned that I am trans in a few posts on this blog, but yet I still receive some online harassment for it; there are literally people who, after reading some post where I mention that I am trans, take the time to track down my Facebook account in order to send me transphobic message requests via Messenger, send me links to anti-trans YouTube videos, and that sort of thing. Even so, the amount of harassment I’ve faced so far has been tiny compared to what other trans people who are more open about their experiences online face. The main reason why I don’t publicly talk about being trans more is simply because I don’t want to face more harassment.

      Additionally, I don’t want this blog to become too much about me as a person. I honestly don’t consider myself to be especially interesting and I often feel uncomfortable talking about myself publicly. The purpose of this blog has always been to educate my readers about the (primarily ancient) past, not to tell people about my personal life. You’ll notice that, even in my ongoing series about my experience this summer in Greece, which is one of the most extensively personal pieces I’ve ever written on this blog, I’ve avoided saying much about myself and have tried to keep the focus on the places I went and the things I saw, which is what I feel more comfortable talking about and what I think most people are more interested in hearing.

      1. It’s quite sad that we live in a world where so many people like the ones you described your second paragraph exist. I would have loved to read a post about your own personal gender history.

        That being said, deciding not to make your blog too self-focused is an entirely valid decision, separate of the above point. I know that your primary purpose in writing is to spread knowledge about the past, and sometimes the present too. I enjoy your writing on those subjects immensely.

        1. Just to be clear, my decision to limit how much information about myself I share on this blog is a personal one and I have nothing but respect for people who do talk about their personal journeys and struggles online. I have multiple classics friends who have written about incredibly personal experiences and struggles on their blogs and I have immense respect for the courage it takes to do that. That’s just not something that I personally feel comfortable doing at this point in my life.

          I will also say that, although my life has certainly not been free of struggles, I have personally endured far fewer struggles related to my gender than the vast majority of trans people. For one thing, I am incredibly fortunate to have a loving family that accepts and supports me. A lot of trans people are nowhere near so lucky.

      2. I was mostly interested if that has anything with your passion for Antiquity, and, besides, did being queer/trans affect your professional life / education / travels in any way… also do you notice some details in stories from times forgotten that most people miss.

  3. Your posts always surprise me in unexpected ways. I certainly wasn’t expecting a Biggus Dickus joke from Wilamowitz!

    1. This is the second regular post I’ve made since this summer. I still have one more post I need to make about my time in Greece to finish the series, but, in the meantime, I’ve decided to make some regular posts for a little variety.

  4. Thank you for this article! It is an annoying misconception in these circles that historians are idiots who cannot interpret subtext, but that uneducated laypeople somehow can. Not to say that there aren’t still heteronormative assumptions in scholarship of course; it seems me that some scholars are overly sceptical about historical same-sex relationships compared to “straight” ones; for instance those who deny that Virgil was attracted to males or speculate that Bagoas is ahistorical.

    It is good that you brought up Parker’s history, though of course it is horrid to read of. How do you think one should go about citing people like that how have yet contributed to scholarship? Citation with an acknowledgement of the problematic things they have done maybe? I had such a quandary when finding a pretty useful paper that was by Enoch Powell

    1. This is a question that scholars who study the ancient world have been debating for years and the truth is that I don’t really have a definite answer. In practice, my policy has been to cite any scholarship that I have read that has influenced my perspective, but this isn’t necessarily a good policy.

      Sarah Scullin was perhaps the first person to raise this issue publicly in a post she wrote for Eidolon in 2016 shortly after news of the Holt Parker scandal first broke, in which she raises the question of whether scholars should continue to cite his work.

      Four years later, in August 2020, Joel Christensen wrote a post on his blog in response to a series of scandals that year involving prominent classics scholars. In his post, Christensen argues that we should cite people based on their work and that it is fine to cite good ideas from scholars who are terrible people. Shortly after he made that post and partly in response to it, Rebecca Futo Kennedy and Max Goldman made a post on their blog about the issue, which addresses the topic from a different perspective. They argue that the focus of citation should be less about whom one chooses to cite or not cite and more about who the person citing wants to be. From their perspective, citation is about building the academic community that one wishes to be a part of.

      The Biblical scholar Eryk Vanden Eykel also has a post on Medium in which he addresses the issue from a Biblical studies perspective. Since he comes from a different field, Vanden Eykel was not aware of the earlier articles I have mentioned when he wrote his post, but he argues independently that scholars should not uncritically cite the work of known sexual predators.

      1. Thank you for all these links! I guess my view is somewhat more like your policy than Kennedy & Goldman, but ideally I think one ought to acknowledge it in the text when citing a highly problematic scholar, especially one that is still active in the field. I also feel more free to not cite such scholars on for instance AskHistorians as compared to an actual paper.

        Earlier I have seen some discussion on this point by Chrissy Hansen, an amateur scholar in Biblical studies, who is a strong proponent of mentioning specifically whenever one cites a sexual predator. (I believe she and you both commented on an AcademicBiblical thread recently, not sure if you were aware of her though).

  5. It’s a very interesting question. It reminded me of a number theory paper which cites the mathematical work of T. J. Kaczynski, adding in a footnote: “Better known for other work.”

  6. In the quote from Mure you shared, Murray says it’s unlikely Sappho was ever married because classical authors refer to her as a “maiden.” But in her own poems she does refer to a daughter. Obviously her poetic persona having a daughter does not necessary mean that the real-life Sappho herself had one or was ever married, but I don’t see why the comments of later authors, who we know gave many fictitious details about Sappho’s life, should have priority over Sappho’s own words. Or is there other evidence besides the one mentioned in the quote that suggests that Sappho never married or had children?

    (I know this is Mure’s argument, not yours, but I was just wondering if you knew his reasoning here?)

    1. Mure wrote that argument in the mid-nineteenth century, before the major papyrus discoveries of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. As a result of the time in which he wrote, he had access to far less of Sappho’s work than scholars have access to today. Notably, although he did have access to fr. 132, which is preserved by Hephaistion in his Handbook on Meters and mentions Kleïs, he did not have access to fr. 98, which comes from a couple of papyrus fragments (P. Haun. 301 and P. Mediol.) that were discovered in Egypt and published in the twentieth century. Specifically, Vogliano published the first edition of fr. 98b (which is the part of the fragment that mentions Kleïs by name) in 1939.

  7. On the other hand, how do we know “Kerkylas” is not a diminutive for another name?

    After all, English has “Dick”, that both means “penis” and is a diminutive for an actual name, and you did mention in a previous post how writers from Asia Minor (e.g., Hipponax) are our only attestations from words and names that came from otherwise unknown anatolian languages.

    1. We can be reasonably sure that it is a joke name because the name Kerkylas is not attested anywhere else in the entire surviving corpus of ancient Greek writing and it would be an extraordinarily unlikely coincidence for the only known person with a name that means “Penis” to just happen to come from an island whose name sounds like the word for “Man.” As Parker says in a footnote: “I might be willing to accept Kerkylas as a real person if the name were attested anywhere else and if he came from any other place on the planet except Andros.”

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