Abstract
While the ever-growing relationship between pharmaceuticals and sexuality today may be taken for granted, the nature of that intersection in antiquity remains a more open question. This article provides a survey of erectogenic (i.e. erection inducing) drugs in Greco-Roman antiquity, roughly from the time of Theophrastus (4th/3rd Century BC) to Paul of Aegina (7th Century AD). Rather than evaluating claims of efficacy, I attempt to account for a network of cultural associations that informed ancient perceptions of the relationship between sexual activity and materia medica. Throughout the article, I give attention to the recurring problem of ambiguity that surrounded not only the Greek nomenclature for stimulative substances, but also the potential motivations for their usage. Finally, the survey concludes with a brief reflection on a number of questions raised by the existence, and persistence, of erectogenic drugs across antiquity.
When Viagra was approved by the FDA in 1998, it took the United States by storm. Meika Loe details in The Rise of Viagra how this drug became a cultural phenomenon as it ascended into the top two headlines of the year, generating one-liners from postcards to stand-up comedy routines for years to follow. Viagra was a laughing matter for some, but others were concerned with the ethical implications, wondering whether pharmaceuticals in the bedroom might fundamentally change the relationship between medicine and sexuality for the worse. Still others considered it a medical breakthrough for the treatment of erectile dysfunction, even a “fascinating learning experience” that helped “us to look back and figure out” the biochemistry of erection.1
In the past few years, Viagra has become one of several options in the ever-expanding marketplace for erectile dysfunction medications. These are phosphodiesterase type 5 (PDEF5) inhibitors, which work on an enzyme that can interfere in the chain of communications that promote smooth muscle relaxation, and in turn, erection. But the science behind that process has not always been clear to the laypeople using such drugs. Viagra does not directly cause smooth muscle relaxation in the corpora cavernosa or create sexual arousal, yet it has often been regarded, and used, as an “aphrodisiac” by those seeking to enhance or augment their sexual performance. After all, Pfizer, the developer of the drug, advertised itself as the “‘unofficial sponsor’ of Valentine’s Day,” despite its insistence that Viagra was strictly for the medical treatment of erectile dysfunction.2
The idea of sexually stimulative substances or drug induced erection is nothing new, especially in Greek drug lore, but scholarship about the concept of infertility in the ancient world has not paid much attention to erectogenic drugs. This omission is unfortunate, because our understandings of sexuality and medicine in antiquity only stand to gain from a consideration of material responses to dysfunction. The earliest written evidence for erectogenic substances comes from a passage in Theophrastus’ Enquiry into Plants (c. 370–287 BC) that was notoriously excluded from the first English translation. In this excerpt, Theophrastus recounts the claim about a plant that, when plastered on the penis, enables an erection powerful enough to have sex with as many women as one desires.3 Over time, certain recipes aimed at producing erection acquired their own designation in Greek as entatika. These recipes became a standard component of the repertoire of Greco-Roman medicine in Classical Antiquity, and later, of Byzantine pharmacy. It should be noted at the outset, however, that this paper will not attempt to argue for or against the efficacy of erectogenic drugs in antiquity. Not only would such a study be difficult given the uncertainty in positively identifying the plants and animals referred to in ancient texts, but it would also be unproductive to appreciating the concept of drug-induced erectogenesis historically. According to Laurence Totelin, “since the Hippocratic writers rarely (or almost never) explain the rationale for the use of an ingredient in their recipes, the sexual value of ingredients… is not immediately apparent to the modern reader.”4 The same often applies to erectogenic drugs, and this paper will attempt to account for cultural associations as they factored into pharmacy, while bringing forward a number of common themes and problems in the sexual pharmacopeia along the way.
Before beginning, it will be helpful to devote a few remarks to the meaning of entatikon (sg. of entatika). A neuter, substantivized form of the adjective entatikos (lit. “related to/fit for tension”), this term derives ultimately from the abstract noun entasis, which may refer to distension of a physical object—such as a column or a body part—or more specifically, to penile erection. Following a common naming convention in Greek wherein substances are labeled by their reputed effects, an entatikon is a substance or recipe that produces “tension” (i.e. what we call tumescence). Additionally, since the noun entasis may connote sexual excitement, the adjective entatikos could be used more generally to characterize something as “arousing.”5
Roman Imperial Period
Dioscorides of Anazarbus and Rufus of Ephesus
Writing in the second half of the first century AD, Dioscorides of Anazarbus produced one of the most influential works in medical history, the Materia Medica. As Dioscorides reported in the preface, his interest in materials of medicinal value began at a young age. After leading a so-called “military life” with extensive traveling, he committed his lifelong findings and observations to a five-book tome.6 Among the vast array of plants, animals, and minerals described throughout his work, Dioscorides included over twenty substances with sexually stimulative properties (see Appendix, page 22). None are specified outright as erectogenic,7 though a later body of material associated with Dioscorides’ name does present such details.
Sometime during the early sixth century a list of synonyms entered the alphabetical recension of the Materia Medica. There, in the alternative names for a type of orchid known as satyrion, we find that
some people call this satyrion the erythraikon, some the apple in the waters (mēlon to en hydasin), some entatikon, some priapiskon, some satyriskos, and some the orchid of Satyr (orchis Satyrou). The Romans call it rabbit’s testicle (testikouloum leporis).
Whatever the actual identification of the orchid in question, the name drew inspiration from its association with satyrs, the notoriously lecherous goat-human hybrids of Greek mythology, or else Priapus, the ithyphallic god punished with a permanent erection—perhaps because this orchid was perceived to bear physical resemblance to male genitalia.8 The fluidity of botanical nomenclature in antiquity comes out in this passage, especially for plants deemed to have sexual value. As we will see, however, not all of those plants were linked to sex by name or appearance.
For an earlier and more secure attestation of entatikos, one must turn to the fragmentary On Satyriasis and Gonorrhea written by Rufus of Ephesus (fl. AD 100). Our single manuscript of the work begins with a certain man, presumably a former patient of Rufus’, “whose penis was twitching.” Unfortunately, the text breaks there. When the fragment becomes intelligible again, Rufus assessed the causes of twitching in various areas of the body, and two conditions known as “satyriasis” (a perplexing state of painful arousal) and “gonorrhea” (involuntary release of semen). Rufus later moved to a discussion of treatment, in which he made one of the following recommendations:
Moderate excretions of the belly, apart from being helpful for the entire [affection, also] lighten [the area around the] loins, which one must take great caution to ensure neither becomes filled nor irritated. For, both [of these conditions] are exciting and arousing (kinētika kai entatika).
The underlying logic seemed to be that disturbance in the belly could quickly translate into disturbance in the nearby area of the loins. Remaining circumspect about one’s diet—particularly avoiding excessive intake—was thus an important precautionary measure.9
Galen and Pseudo-Galen
Dioscorides and Rufus were not the only ones to link food with the potential for arousal. Writing not long after them was Galen (AD 129–c. 216/217), a native of Pergamum in modern day Turkey whose meteoric rise to fame earned him one of the most prominent places in medical history. Galen received a broad training in medicine and related disciplines under noted authorities of the time, and he went on to serve as a physician for the gladiators in Pergamum, and later, as personal physician to the emperor Commodus.10 The massive corpus of Galen’s works contained discussions of erectogenic drugs in two places: On the Affected Places and On the Mixtures and Faculties of Simple Drugs. Towards the end of On the Affected Places, Galen proffered an explanation of the physiological mechanisms behind priapism, a devious condition that creates painful and involuntary erections. He appended the following observation:
And furthermore, drugs that create erection—both those that are imbibed and those that are applied around the perineum and the loins—are all hot and produce air (pneumatōdēs), just as, in turn, the drugs that do the opposite are not flatulence inducing (aphysos) and are cool rather than heating.
Though a link between flatulence and sex sounds odd to the modern reader, Galen here reflected a general theory in antiquity that a form of air (pneuma), rather than blood, filled the penis during tumescence. In Galen’s reckoning, heat dilated the appropriate arterial passages transporting that air. Thus, excessive amounts of heat could allow excessive amounts of air to pass through. Accordingly, in the case of priapism, patients should seek to do the opposite. As we shall see, Galen was one of many authors in antiquity to associate heating properties with sexual stimulation.11
On the Mixtures and Faculties of Simple Drugs was one of Galen’s works on pharmacy. Like Dioscorides, Galen covered a broad range of plants, animals, and minerals. One of these substances was the skink—or, to be more precise, its insides:
The area around the kidneys of the skink is imbibed to produce erection and, furthermore, seems able of doing the opposite, especially when imbibed with lettuce seed (thridax) in water. Some people also say that drinking a decoction of lentils (phakos) with honey stops erections.
This passage echoes Dioscorides, who had already described the skink as stimulative and noted the opposite effect in combination with lentils and honey. Galen, though, linked it specifically with erectogenesis.12 Lettuce was generally associated with cooling properties, and Galen even provided an anecdote in one of his works about his personal use of lettuce as a sleep-inducing cure for insomnia.13 More significantly, though, the passage above demonstrates one of the recurrent difficulties in studying erotic drugs in antiquity, and one that ancient readers would have surely faced as well: ambiguity. Textual evidence suggests that the skink had a widespread reputation as a stimulative substance—whether by generating sexual arousal, as Dioscorides had it, or by generating an erection, as Galen reported.
These two works by Galen said little about erectogenic drugs when compared to On Easily Procured Drugs, another work attributed to him. The authorship of On Easily Procured Drugs remains disputed, and the lack of any clear reference to it by ancient commentators makes dating difficult. If it was composed after Galen’s lifetime, the only terminus ante quem available is the thirteenth century, which is the date our earliest manuscript.14 The author specified that “the following things make the penis erect and are sexually stimulative,” thus combining the two strands of thought about sexually charged substances encountered above. He then listed a series of recipes, some of which are imbibed, others of which are anointed. These recipes were relatively straightforward with few ingredients, such as:
Anoint the penis with honey before sex.
Another: put arugula seed (euzōmon) in honey and drink.
Honey was used broadly in cuisine and certain wines, while arugula was famous for its pungent flavor, and so generally described to have a heating effect. Both appear frequently in erectogenic recipes, and the latter as a stimulative substance in its own right.15 Other recipes from the text involve additional spicy ingredients, along with more directions:
Take two ladles of arugula juice (euzōmon) along with a sufficient amount of white pepper (peperi leukon) for three days back to back; or, take one spoonful of arugula juice and white pepper on an empty stomach.
And other recipes involve animal products:
Whenever the bull urinates after sex, mix soil and the mud made by the urine into a plaster and anoint it on the penis.
Although this recommendation likely sounds unpalatable to modern readers, it is worth remembering the differences in perceptions of hygiene between agricultural and industrial societies. The ancients lived in close proximity to, and interacted daily with, domesticated animals. Animals were such a familiar aspect of daily life that ancient physicians often turned to them for inspiration—not only for producing anatomical knowledge through dissection, but also pharmacological experimentation.16
Aelius Promotus
Biographical details about our next author are scarce. Aelius Promotus (c. AD 140–190?) was probably a contemporary of Galen, and he wrote multiple works on pharmacy, the most relevant for our purposes being the Dynameron.17 Its 130 chapters covered conditions from hair loss to dysentery, and three were dedicated to erotic recipes. In language reminiscent of a sales pitch, chapter twenty-four promised:
an entatikon, unfailing from experience: after chopping up two ounces of arugula seed (euzōmon), one ounce of pepper (peperi), and a half ounce of celery seed (selinon), take one spoonful with seasoned wine mixed in hot water on an empty stomach after a bath for three days and you will be amazed.18
Note the appearance of arugula and pepper again, famous for their heating properties. Celery seed was thought to be diuretic, a property linked in some texts to sexual stimulation.19 There was also the implication that this recipe had been tried many times. Authors of pharmaceutical texts sometimes vouched for the efficacy of a recipe by describing their personal experience with it, though it is hard to tell whether they were actually repeating the experience of their sources.20
Aelius followed with a chapter on drugs that prevent erections, listed under the antonym anentata:
After crushing up mountain mint (kalaminthē oreinē) with wine and milk, rub the member [i.e. penis] and it will not be made erect.
Place a twig or root of artemisia (artemisia) with mint (kalaminthē) under the bed.
Lay out thin-leaf fleabane (konuza leptophullon) [under the bed] or smear the member with the gallbladder of an electric ray and olive oil.21
The juxtaposition of drugs that produced and inhibited erections was an interesting one. In Galen’s case, the skink served both purposes when combined with different ingredients. Aelius, however, offered a glimpse into recipes as a means to prevent erections. Two operating principles were at work: either anointing the penis or placing certain herbs under one’s bed before sleep. The former was exactly like erectogenic drugs that were topically applied, except that the ingredients were intended to have the opposite effect. Use of the electric ray in the third recipe above was well suited in that regard, because electric rays were famous for their ability to numb predators and were used in various medical treatments.22 Placing plants under a bed probably reflected a notion present in the rituals of a festival known as the Thesmophoria, during part of which Greek women would abstain from food and sex by sleeping on mats made of, or placed atop, chaste tree—a plant widely reputed for its ability to curb sexual desire and to prevent nocturnal emission, among other things.23
The third and final chapter devoted to erotic recipes causes some terminological confusion. Labeled hedonika (lit. “pleasurable things”), these eleven recipes are an eclectic mixture of ingredients, sometimes accompanied by incantations, with the apparent goal of creating pleasure. The most recent translator has labeled these “aphrodisiacs,” but their function seems more complex.24 For example, at least one of these explicitly doubles as an erectogenic:
2. A hedonikon and entatikon: a whole pig’s gallbladder […], 23 grains of pepper (peperi), a sufficient amount of honey. Rub the penis [with this] while having sex.
An instruction appears to be missing from the manuscript here, but the essence remains: use pepper and honey, two of the favored ingredients for producing an erection, along with part of a pig. But was this recipe meant to induce an erection, or to help sustain one during sex? Moreover, who received the pleasure to be generated from this recipe? One might assume the male was the intended recipient for any hedonika applied to the penis, but a few were specifically targeted at women:
4. A hedonikon with the effect of making the woman become weak from pleasure: one drachma of myrrh (smyrna), one drachma of cloven alum, 24 grains of pepper (peperi). Triturate with Attic honey and apply by rubbing the glans.
10. An amazing hedonikon with the effect of making the woman howl and send out all kinds of noises from the pleasure: two drachmae of Cnidian grain (kokkos Knidios) without the skin, two drachmae of myrrh (smyrna), two drachmae of pepper (peperi), 16 berries of white ivy (kissos melas), two drachmae of staphis agria, two drachmae of the larva[?] that have tails and are found in bathhouses, and a sufficient amount of honey so that it can be rubbed on.25
Interestingly, medical literature on hygiene usually warned that sex caused weakness and so cautioned moderation, but here, the point was to cause weakness!26
In sum, Aelius’ description of hedonika implied the enhancement of sexual pleasure via a kind of supplement. Nevertheless, finding an accurate categorization for hedonika is not so straightforward. The term will appear again below, where the designation of “aphrodisiac” might arguably be justified. As for the way in which hedonika occurred in Aelius, however, “aphrodisiac” fails to capture the circumstances of each application. Ambiguity not only affected how erotic substances were supposed to work, but also how they were designated.
Medico-Magic and the Cyranides
In the case of Pseudo-Galen’s and Aelius Promotus’ recipes, erectogenic drugs could involve ingredients or processes that we today might broadly call “magical.” Yet, medical texts were not the only place to turn to for sexual medicine. A strong tradition of erotic magic existed throughout antiquity, offering recourse to a variety of romantic endeavors in and outside the bedroom.27 Indeed, some of this material blurred any strict line between “magic” and “medicine,” especially as they related to recipes for erectogenesis. One such recipe from the Greek Magical Papyri fits in well with the material reviewed thus far:
To get an erection when you want: grind up a pepper (peperi) with some honey and coat your ‘thing.’28
Both the familiar ingredients of pepper and honey and the method of topical application as an unguent were recurring features. There was also an expanded interest in the products of animals with certain associations deriving from their sexual behavior. The Cyranides (AD 50–200?), a pseudonymous compilation of the properties of various animals, plants, and stones, devoted several such chapters in its two books on tetrapods and birds. Goats were notoriously promiscuous, and their semen could be rubbed onto the human penis to create a “large and unconquerable” erection; sparrows were noted for their stamina when copulating in the spring, and mixing their droppings into wine could likewise produce an erection.29
Yet, magical texts revealed more than similarities and differences between means of erectogenesis. They also provided details about the people who sought to use such drugs as well as their motives for doing so—information that does not always appear in the terse formulation of medical texts. A chapter of the Cyranides about ostriches and amulets, for example, provided various critical details:
The gizzard of ostriches pounded dry and given secretly as a love-potion is a hedonikon preparing the girl that drinks it for love. A stone from within the gizzard, broken off and given in drink or food along with a grain of man orchid (satyrion), creates a large erection, especially for those who are not able to have sex. […] In the sapphire an ostrich is engraved holding a sarpa in its bill; place under the stone a grain of man orchid (satyrion) and a bit of the stone found in the gizzard of the belly of the ostrich. Secure the amulet and wear it for good digestion. Also, erection is brought about and erotic affinities. Above all it produces an erection for those who are already old and want to have a lot of sex. It also makes the wearer charming.30
Represented here are both the elderly, who seek to circumvent age-related sexual difficulties, and a group of people vaguely described as not being able to have sex. That the former “want to have a lot of sex” hints at the potential use (or overuse?) of erectogenic drugs for recreational purposes. As for the latter, the phraseology of sexual inability did not necessarily refer to men with what is labeled today as erectile dysfunction. The Cyranides sometimes described substances as causing an “erection” for both men and women, implying that the word also sometimes had the general meaning of “sexual arousal” in the text.31 It is important to repeat here that traces of motivation, whenever mentioned, should be taken as a serious component of the historical study of sexual medicine and pharmacy. While the intended outcome of a drug correlates with usage, it does not necessarily explain the factors contributing to usage in the first place.
Late Antiquity
Oribasius and the Medical Encyclopedists
Oribasius (c. AD 350–400), like Galen, was a native of Pergamum who served as the personal physician to an emperor. Charged with the task of assembling a massive encyclopedia of medical writings up until his time, Oribasius penned seventy books known as the Medical Compilations. Twenty-five of the individual books have survived in their entirety, and two shorter synopses dedicated to friends and family are also extant.32 After Oribasius’ age, medical encyclopedias rose to prominence as a means for condensing and transmitting knowledge.33 Aetius of Amida (c. AD 500–550) and Paul of Aegina (c. AD 630–670?), for example, later expanded upon Oribasius’ project, using much of his material as sources for their own compilations. Altogether, these works preserved an abundance of material from texts that have become otherwise lost to time—including several recipes for erectogenesis. One recipe in Oribasius particularly built on several of the plant and animal ingredients encountered above:
Two drachmae of man orchid (satyrion), four drachmae of arugula seed (euzōmon), four drachmae of pellitory (pyrethron), three drachmae of roasted barley (kachrys), two drachmae of stag penis, two drachmae of skink urine, one drachma of spurge (euphorbion), one drachma of terebinth (terminthinē), four drachmae of beeswax, three sparrow eggs, three geckos, and [a sufficient amount] of pine or iris oil (elaion dadinon ē irinon). The geckos are steeped alive in vinegar until day forty, the container being placed in a dung heap and covered.34
The method of application for this concoction was unclear, but the presence of oil as the final ingredient suggested that this drug would be topically applied. In addition to the standard components of orchid, arugula, and skink, the recipe also included animal products such as sparrow eggs and stag penis, another ingredient accorded sexual value in various texts.35 Paul of Aegina repeated this recipe nearly verbatim and noted elsewhere that geckos had erectogenic properties. From the time of Dioscorides to Oribasius, then, recipes for erectogenic drugs continued to be created and expanded with different plant-based and animal-based products,36 though not every author in Late Antiquity went on to be as expansive in their coverage. Alexander of Tralles (c. AD 525–605), for example, only devoted a few lines to the topic after a chapter on the treatment of “gonorrhea.”37
Aside from new recipes, the later compilers also provided us with significant evidence for the use of erectogenic drugs in the context of treatment. One striking example occurred in a fragment of an unknown source that appeared in three parallel chapters. The earliest example could be from the Excerpts of Medicine, though this work derived from a single manuscript questionably attributed to Oribasius.38 There, and in Paul of Aegina, the material appeared under a chapter entitled “concerning non-functioning members,” while Aetius of Amida used the title “concerning those who are not able to engage in sex.” All three mentioned individuals who wish to have sex but are hindered by penises that do not work, which, according to the Excerpts of Medicine and Aetius of Amida, caused them psychological distress. Paul of Aegina explicitly called this an “affection” (pathos) and recorded the cause as being “either paralysis of the member or a lack [or fault?] of semen,” suggesting in his case, at least, that erectile performance was predicated on tumescence and/or fertility.39 Moreover, all three prescribed recipes—like those above—consisted of ingredients noted for their stimulative properties.
Conclusions
The study of erectogenic drugs raises a set of important questions. To what degree was erectile performance judged by sustained penile tumescence as opposed to successful reproduction? In the tantalizing fragment above, which previous scholarship about infertility in the ancient world has not taken into account, Paul of Aegina discussed both factors, but it remains questionable whether the Excerpts of Medicine and Aetius of Amida meant to link “non-functioning members” to a “lack of semen” in the same way.40 Furthermore, who was the intended audience for the entatika in Galen, Pseudo-Galen, and Aelius Promotus? The answer to this question, if possible, would affect the role played by pharmacy in sexual medicine. Thus, when contacted by patients, were physicians attempting to solve reproductive problems, which were commonly alleged to be the result of infertility on the female’s part, or dissatisfaction with erectile performance more specifically?
In The Rise of Viagra, Maike Loe observed that Viagra helped to “transfor[m] unacceptable erectile performance into a subject of medical analysis and treatment.”41 This paper hopes to illuminate how the medicalization of erectile performance began much earlier than modernity. The existence (and persistence) of erectogenic drugs across antiquity reflected the belief that tumescence was both a natural process, and, at the same time, a process that could be artificially manipulated—even if there was an apparent ambivalence towards substances that were “stimulative” generally and erectogenic specifically. Nevertheless, from our point of view, recipes for erectogenesis suggested broader implications for the perceived relationship between materials external to the body and sexual processes within the body. The use of ingredients associated with stimulation also presents us with an interesting parallel to the involvement of sexually charged items in the Hippocratic gynecological repertoire. This parallel deserves a different study than can be given at present, but nonetheless calls attention to a complex network of cultural and material associations at work in Greek pharmacy—one that will require greater consideration of unconventional sources to unravel.
Appendix—Sexually Stimulating Substances in Dioscorides
These two tables summarize the substances identified by Dioscorides as having sexually stimulative properties. Table 1 lists substances that he identified as sexually stimulating on their own. Table 2 lists substances that he identified as stimulating when used in conjunction with other substances. Identifications for plants, which I have given in their common names, are drawn from Andrew Dalby, Food in the Ancient World: From A-Z and/or Jacques André, Les noms de plantes dans la Rome antique.
Footnotes
↵1. Meika Loe, The Rise of Viagra: How the Little Blue Pill Changed Sex in America (New York: New York University Press, 2004), 40 (quoting an interview between Loe and urologist Dr. Bending). Chapters 1 and 2 provide an overview of the development and distribution of Viagra.
↵2. Loe, Rise of Viagra, 57–59.
↵3. The first English translation was Arthur Hort, Theophrastus: Enquiry into Plants (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1916), 2 vols. The omission of Enquiry into Plants 9.18.3–11 was criticized first in Chalmers Gemmill, “The Missing Passages in Hort’s Translation of Theophrastus,” Bulletin of the New York Academy of Medicine 49.2 (1973): 127–29. Gemmill also provided a translation for the missing passages in his article. For subsequent English translations: Anthony Preus, “Drugs and Psychic States in Theophrastus’ Historia plantarum 9.8–20,” in Theophrastean Studies: Fifteen Papers on Natural Science, Physics and Metaphysics, Ethics, Religion, and Rhetoric, eds. William Fortenbaugh and Robert Sharples (New Brunswick: Transaction, 1988), 88–89; Andrew Dalby, “The Name of the Rose Again; or, What Happened to Theophrastus On Aphrodisiacs?” Petits propos culinaires 64 (2000): 9–15. Currently, the most authoritative edition and translation [French] of Enquiry into Plants is Suzanne Amigues, Théophraste. Recherches sur les plantes (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1988–2006), 5 vols. For additional bibliography on critical editions and translations of texts mentioned in this article (other than Galen), see http://worddoctors.org/texts-and-translations/. For the Galenic corpus, see the latest Fichtner bibliography on the Corpus Medicorum Graecorum website at http://cmg.bbaw.de/online-publications/hippokrates-und-galenbibliographie-fichtner.
↵4. Laurence Totelin, “Sex and Vegetables in the Hippocratic Gynaecological Drugs,” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science Part C 38, no. 3 (2007): 532, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.shpsc.2007.06.001.
↵5. See Diccionario Griego-Español, s.v. 1 entasis and s.v. entatikos for the most thorough entries. One finds “stimulating, aphrodisiac” provided by LSJ and Richard Durling, A Dictionary of Medical Terms in Galen (Leiden: Brill, 1993), https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004377301, s.v. entatikos, but this fails to capture the etymological nuance that often is operative in the designation. Several adjectives and phrases in Greek are more commonly used to describe stimulating substances than entatikos (e.g. aphrodisiastikos, epegeirein eis aphrodisia, parorman pros aphrodisia).
↵6. On the life of Dioscorides, see John M. Riddle, Dioscorides on Pharmacy and Medicine (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1985), 1–24. The Greek text used in this volume is Max Wellmann, ed., Pedanii Dioscuridis Anazarbei de materia medica libri quinque (Berlin: Weidmann, 1907–1914), 3 vols. For an English translation of Dioscorides, see Lily Beck, Materia Medica (New York: Olms-Weidmann, 2011), 2nd ed.
↵7. For references, see “aphrodisiacs” in Beck, Materia Medica, 589. Beck does not include Dioscorides 2.151 in that list, but John McMahon, Paralysin Cave: Impotence, Perception, and Text in the Satyrica of Petronius (New York: Brill, 1997), 125 note 102, does. To be fair, the Greek (orexis) is broad and can mean desire as in “appetite for food.”
↵8. The passage translated above is Materia Medica 3.128RV (ed. Wellmann, De materia medica (n. 6)), vol. 2, 138 (RV refers to Wellmann’s reading of the synonyms in the alphabetical recension, which he usually prints after the main text). NB: All translations in this paper are mine unless otherwise noted. On the alphabetical recension, see Ioana C. Popa, “The Lists of Plant Synonyms in De materia medica of Dioscorides,” Global Journal of Science Frontier Research 10:3 (2010): 46–49. On identifications for satyrion, see Jacques André, Les noms de plantes dans la Rome antique (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1985), 227–228 (he remarks on 288 that satyrion erythraikon is “sans doute une Helléborine (Serapias cordigera L.)”). See also Jésus Salvador, “El fitónimo σατύριον: un estudio sobre la denominación de plantas, el mundo vegetal y la religión griega,” Faventia 16, no. 2 (1994): 33–49. On orchids, see Valérie Bonet, “Les Orchidées du Monde Gréco-Romain,” Vita Latina 193–94 (2016): 151–77. On testiculus leporis, see André, Les noms de plantes, 257.
↵9. The passage translated above is Rufus of Ephesus, On Satyriasis and Gonorrhea 19–20 (ed. Charles Daremberg, Oeuvres de Rufus d’Éphèse (Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1879), 72, lines 4–21; on the importance attached to diet, see also 31 (ed. Daremberg, Oeuvres de Rufus, 76). On the life and works of Rufus of Ephesus, see Alexander Sidereas, “Rufus von Ephesus und Sein Werk,” in Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt 2.37.2, ed. Wolfgang Haase (Berlin: Walter De Gruyter, 1994), 1077–253. On the various definitions of satyriasis, see Danielle Gourevitch, “Women who Suffer from a Man’s Disease: The example of satyriasis and the debate on affections specific to the sexes,” in Women in Antiquity: New Assessments, eds. Richard Hawley and Barbara Levick (London: Routledge, 1995), 149–165, https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203428559. Xenocrates of Aphrodisias (ed. J.L. Ideler, Physici et Medici Graeci Minores, vol. 1 (Berlin: Reimeri), 122) might provide an earlier attestation of entatikos than Rufus, but the date of his work is also approximate (on which, see Arnaud Zucker, “Xenocratēs of Aphrodisias,” in The Encyclopedia of Ancient Natural Scientists: The Greek Tradition and its Many Heirs, eds. Paul T. Keyser and Georgia L. Irby-Massie (London: Routledge, 2008), 836–837), https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203462737. The reference to “Xenocr. 16” (i.e. Xenocrates, the 4th Century BC philosopher) in Franco Montinari, The Brill Dictionary of Ancient Greek (Leiden: Brill, 2015), https://doi.org/10.1163/2405-8688-bdgo-all, s.v. entatikos is erroneous (perhaps a mistake for “Xenocr.1 16”).
↵10. For an accessible biography of Galen, see Susan Mattern, The Prince of Medicine: Galen in the Roman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). References to the works of Galen (and Pseudo-Galen) in this paper are based on C. G. Kühn, ed., Claudii Galeni Opera omnia (Leipzig: Cnobloch, 1821–1833), 20 vols.
↵11. Galen (ed. Kühn, Opera omnia (n. 10)), vol. 8, 449–450. Galen discusses the effect of heat on the arteries in the preceding page. For a brief summary of Galen’s physiology of erection, see Marke Ahonen, “Galen on Sexual Desire and Sexual Regulation,” Apeiron 50.4 (2017): 455–457. There is a passage in Rufus of Ephesus that seems to express some ambivalence about the potential roles played by blood and pneuma (On Satyriasis and Gonorrhea 25 (ed. Daremberg, Oeuvres de Rufus (n.9)), 74). Theodore Hopfner, Das Sexualleben der Griechen und Römer (New York: AMS Press, 1938), 78 interpreted the polemical tone with which Galen defends the pneumatic model in various texts as evidence of a competing blood-based theory.
↵12. Galen (ed. Kühn, Opera omnia (n.10)), vol. 12, 341 and Dioscorides 2.66 (ed. Wellman, De materia medica (n. 6)), vol. 1, 142. On the skink, see Kenneth F. Kitchell, Jr., Animals in the Ancient World: From A to Z (Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2014), 133, https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203087503. For recipes involving skink, cf. Cyranides 2.37 (ed. Dimitris Kaimakis, Die Kyraniden (Meisenheim am Glan: A. Hain, 1976), 171; Oribasius, Books for Eunapius 4.105.3 (ed. Johannes Raeder, Oribasii synopsis ad Eustathium et libri ad Eunapium (Leipzig: Teubner, 1926), 484; Aetius of Amida, Tetrabiblos 2.191 (ed. Alexander Olivieri, Aetii amideni libri medicinales I-IV (Leipzig: Teubner, 1935), 222.
↵13. Galen (ed. Kühn, Opera omnia (n. 10)), vol. 6, 626. On lettuce and lentil, see Andrew Dalby, Food in the Ancient World: From A to Z (London: Routledge, 2003), 195–196 and 194 respectively.
↵14. See Laurence Totelin, “The Third Way: Galen, Pseudo-Galen, Metrodora, Cleopatra and Gynaecological Pharmacology of Byzantium,” in Collecting Recipes: Byzantine and Jewish Pharmacology in Dialogue, eds. Lennart Lehmhaus and Matteo Martelli (Berlin: Water de Gruyter), 108–109, https://doi.org/10.1515/9781501502538-006. For a translation of the Arabic text that might refer to On Easily Procured Drugs, see John Lamoreaux, Ḥunayn Ibn Isḥāq on His Galen Translations: A Parallel English-Arabic Text (Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 2016), 88, https://doi.org/10.1086/702452.
↵15. On arugula, see Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n. 13), 282.
↵16. The passages translated above are, respectively: Pseudo-Galen (ed. Kühn, Opera omnia (n. 10)), vol. 14, 488, lines 1–2, 3–5, and 16–18. On pepper, see Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n.13), 254–255. Recipes involving urine or feces, conventionally labeled as irrational Dreckapotheke (“dirty remedies”), have received increasing scholarly attention to the effect that any clear division between “rational” and “irrational” remedies in antiquity seems untenable. See Caroline Petit, “Galen, Pharmacology and the Boundaries of Medicine: A Reassessment,” in Collecting Recipes: Byzantine and Jewish Pharmacology in Dialogue, eds. Lennart Lehmhaus and Matteo Martelli (Berlin: Water de Gruyter), 51–80, https://doi.org/10.1515/9781501502538-004. Interestingly, one also finds erectogenic drugs for animals that use similar ingredients as those for humans. See Geoponica 19.5.4 (ed. Henricus Beckh, Geoponica (Leipzig: Teubner, 1895), 505; Hippiatrica Cantabrigiensia 10.13 (eds. Eugenie Oder and Karl Hoppe, Corpus Hippiatricorum Graecorum (Leipzig: Teubner, 1927), vol. 2, 144. For an English translation of the Geoponica, see Andrew Dalby, Geoponika: Farm Work (Totnes, Devon: Prospect Books, 2011).
↵17. For the Greek text and an Italian translation, see Daria Crismani, Manuale della salute (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2002). On Aelius Promotus, see also Paul T. Keyser and Georgia L. Irby-Massie, “Aelius Promotus of Alexandria,” in The Encyclopedia of Ancient Natural Scientists (n. 9), 35, https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203462737.
↵18. Aelius Promotus, Dynameron 24.1 (ed. Crismani, Manuale (n. 17)), 90. On celery, see Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n.13), 77–78.
↵19. On celery seed as a diuretic, see e.g. Dioscorides 3.64.2 (ed. Wellman, De materia medica (n. 6)), vol. 2, 75–76. On diuretics as sexually stimulative, see Rufus of Ephesus, On Satyriasis and Gonorrhea 20 (ed. Daremberg, Oeuvres de Rufus d’Éphèse (n. 9)), 72.
↵20. For some examples of experience in Galen, see Petit, “Galen, Pharmacology and the Boundaries” (n. 16), 63–69.
↵21. Aelius Promotus, Dynameron 25.1–3 (ed. Crismani, Manuale (n. 17)), 90. On the various designations for mint in antiquity, see A. C. Andrews, “The Mints of the Greeks and Romans and their Condimentary Use,” Osiris 13 (1958): 127–156, https://doi.org/10.1086/368613; Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n.13), 219–220. On artemisia and fleabane, see André, Les noms de plantes (n. 8), 26 and 74 respectively. David Bain, “Some Addenda and Corrigenda to the Revised Supplement to Liddell and Scott,” Glotta 75.3–4 (1999): 123 notes the sexual value of the adjective anentatos, which is absent both in the LSJ and the Diccionario Griego-Español.
↵22. On the electric ray, see Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n. 13), 278–279; D’Arcy Thompson, A Glossary of Greek Fishes (London: Oxford University Press, 1947), 169–172.
↵23. On the chaste tree, see Heinrich von Staden, “Spiderwoman and the Chaste Tree: The Semantics of Matter,” Configurations 1.1 (1993): 23–56, https://doi.org/10.1353/con.1993.0008; Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n. 13), 80. For an overview of the Thesmophoria, see Robert Parker, Polytheism and Society at Athens (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 270–289.
↵24. Crismani, Manuale (n. 17), 91n163 describes the term as a hapax legomenon (i.e. only occurring here in this sense in Greek literature) and perhaps reflective of later Arabian influence. But this suggestion is unnecessary, as there are passages in Metrodora and in the Cyranides where sexual substances are described as hedonika. (Metrodora 36 (ed. G. Del Guerra, Medicina e cosmesis ad uso delle donne (Milano: Associazione culturale mimesis, 1994), 52)). Moreover, several passages in Metrodora directly parallel the Dynameron (unnoted in Crismani), thus suggesting a common source as yet unidentified. The problem, however, is that Metrodora’s work survives in a single manuscript that has been unreliably edited. I have chosen to omit Metrodora from the discussion because, to my knowledge, these passages have not yet been examined together and will require a separate study, which I hope to provide in a future article.
↵25. The passages on hedonika translated above are, respectively: Dynameron 26.2, 4, and 10 (ed. Crismani, Manuale (n. 15)), 92 and 94. On myrrh, see Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n. 13), 226. On kokkos Knidios, ivy, and staphis agria, see André, Les noms de plantes (n. 8), 70, 67, and 248 respectively. The creature in 26.10 is unclear, as the Greek word (skōlēx) can refer to a variety of insects in their larval stages or worms more generally (see Ian C. Beavis, Insects and Other Invertebrates in Classical Antiquity (Exeter, Devon: University of Exeter, 1988), 1–2 and 262 for further uses), https://doi.org/10.5949/liverpool/9780859892841.001.0001. I am unaware of any other references to this creature aside from a parallel passage in Metrodora, though cf. Hescyhius, Lexicon α 7812 (ed. Kurt Latte, Hesychii Alexandrini lexicon (Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1953) vol 1., 264, which may mention the same creature but omits any details about its being found in bathhouses.
↵26. On the reputed effects of sexual activity on the body in ancient medical literature, see Ahonen, “Galen on Sexual Desire” (n. 11), 460–61; J. Pinault, “The Medical Case for Virginity in the Early Second Century C.E.: Soranus of Ephesus, Gynecology 1.32,” Helios 19 (1992): 123–39.
↵27. See Christopher A. Faraone, Ancient Greek Love Magic (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999).
↵28. Papyri Graecae Magicae VII.185–186, trans. Roy Kotansky in The Greek Magical Papyri, ed. Hans Dieter Betz (Chicago: University Chicago Press, 1992) 2nd ed., 120.
↵29. Cyranides 2.38 (goats) and 3.32 (sparrows) (ed. Kaimakis, Kyraniden (n. 12)), 173 and 218. On attitudes towards sparrows, see William G. Arnott, Birds in The Ancient World: From A to Z (London: Routledge, 2007), 330–333, https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203946626.
↵30. I have modified and expanded the translation above of Cyranides 1.18 in Maryse Waegeman, Amulet and Alphabet: Magical Amulets in the First Book of Cyranides (Amsterdam: J.C. Gieben, 1987), 143, to include also 1.18.42–47. I diverge from the text of Kaimakis, Kyraniden (n. 12), 87, line 56, in following the variant reading of the manuscripts which he abbreviated ICOBP (cf. the Latin tradition in L. Delatte, ed., Textes latins et vieux français relatifs aux Cyranides (Paris: Liège: Faculté de philosophie et lettres, 1942), 80, lines 4–5: et modicum lapidis qui est intus in echino seu stomaco struthocamili). It seems clear, both in the Greek and Latin traditions, that there is some confusion here about the meaning of “gizzard” (echinos) and its physical location (cf. Cyranides 1.18.42, where echinos is defined enigmatically as to legomenon siphoukion). On the ostrich, see also Arnott, Birds in the Ancient World (n. 28), 333–336.
↵31. E.g. Cyranides 2.22 (ed. Kaimakis, Kyraniden (n. 12)), 150.
↵32. On Oribasius, see Barry Baldwin, “The Career of Oribasius,” Acta Classica 18 (1975): 85–97.
↵33. For a comparative overview of Oribasius, Aetius, and Paul, see Philip van der Eijk, “Principles and Practices of Compilation and Abbreviation in the Medical ‘Encyclopaedias’ of Late Antiquity,” in Condensing Texts–Condensed Texts, eds. Marietta Horster and Christiane Reitz (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2010), 519–554. For a general overview, see Svetla Slaveva-Griffin, “Byzantine Medical Encyclopedias and Education,” in Oxford Handbook of Science and Medicine in the Classical World, eds. Paul T. Keyser and John Scarborough (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), 965–86, https://doi.org/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199734146.013.58.
↵34. Oribasius, Synopsis for Eustathius, 3.33 (ed. Raeder, Synopsis ad Eustathium et libri ad Eunapium (n. 12)), 76. The Greek actually gives two names for sparrow (strouthos and trōglitēs), the latter apparently (?) being a synonym for the former (see Arnott, Birds in the Ancient World (n. 28), 363). On pellitory and parched barley, see Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n. 13), 254 and 46 respectively. On spurge, see André, Les noms de plantes (n. 8), 99.
↵35. On uses of stag penis, see Totelin, “Sex and Vegetables” (n. 4), 534. On terebinth, see Dalby, Food in the Ancient World (n. 13), xi and 323–324.
↵36. Paul of Aegina, Medical Handbook 7.3.1.307–310 (ed. Johannes L. Heiberg, Paulus Aegineta (Leipzig: Teubner, 1924), vol. 2, 197. On this type of gecko (askalabōtēs), see Kitchell, Animals in the Ancient World (n. 12), 112–113. A similar procedure with geckos occurs in Marcellus Empiricus, 33.8 (ed. Niedermann, Marcelli De medicamentis liber (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1968), 560.
↵37. Alexander of Tralles, Therapeutics 11.7 (ed. Theodor Puschmann, Alexander von Tralles, vol. 2 (Wien: Wilhelm Braumüller, 1879), 497. On the life of Alexander, see Puschmann, Alexander, vol. 1, 75–87; additional bibliography in Petros Bouras-Vallianatos, “Clinical Experience in Late Antiquity: Alexander of Tralles and the Therapy of Epilepsy,” Medical History 58, no. 3 (2014): 338n3, https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2014.27.
↵38. The three passages are: Excerpts of Medicine 66 (ed. Johannes Raeder, Oribasii collectionum medicarum reliquiae (Leipzig: Teubner, 1933), 230–231; Aetius of Amida, Tetrabiblos 11.35 (ed. Daremberg, Oeuvres de Rufus d’Éphèse (n. 9)) 125–126; Paul of Aegina, Medical Handbook 3.58 (ed. Johannes L. Heiberg, Paulus Aegineta (Leipzig: Teubner, 1921), vol. 1, 269. Cf. Paul of Nicaea, Medical Book 81 (ed. Anna Maria Ieraci Bio, Manuale Medico (Napoli: Bibliopolis, 1996), 167–168. On the manuscript tradition of Oribasius’ works, see Serena Buzzi and Federico Messina, “The Latin and Greek Tradition of the Corpus Oribasianum,” in ‘Greek and Roman’ in Latin Medical Texts, ed. Brigitte Maire (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 283–314, https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004273863_017.
↵39. A similar phrase mentioning these two causes appears as a variant reading in a single manuscript of Aetius of Amida (see Daremburg, Oeuvres de Rufus d’Éphèse (n. 9), 125).
↵40. Discussion of the fragment is absent in, e.g., McMahon, Paralysin Cave (n. 7); Rebecca Flemming, “The Invention of Infertility in the Classical Greek World: Medicine, Divinity, and Gender,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 87, no. 4 (2013): 565–590, https://doi.org/10.1353/bhm.2013.0064; Michaela Senkova, “Male Infertility in Ancient Greece: Some Observations,” Graeco-Latina Brunensia 20 (2015): 121–131. McMahon does pay some attention to erectogenic drugs but focuses mostly on literary evidence for ancient conceptions of “impotence” and associations of the penis with various plants and animals.
↵41. Loe, Rise of Viagra (n. 1), 11.
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