understanding of the concept of the Other, but it will be important in tracing the discourse of cannibalism through medieval Europe and the early modern Americas, for the strategies necessary to combat the threat of savage man-eaters need to change if the cannibals are literally among us.
Underscoring many of the descriptions of man-eaters in the classical world was the symbolic linkage of people who consumed other human beings with monsters and the monstrous. In the case of Pliny the Elder, the two were often conflated; he describes cannibals as both humans and monsters in the Natural History. Some of his richest descriptions of monsters appear in the chapter devoted to man, whom he considers the highest of all animals. Given this, it seems clear that for Pliny, the human race came in many forms with a large number of variations. Alongside Scythian cannibals he includes a description of Cyclopes, people whose feet are turned backward, Androgyni, individuals whose saliva can cure snakebites, and others who possess body parts with a variety of magical abilities.28 What, then, are the parameters for defining humanity? It is not size, skin color or texture, sexual dimorphism, number of extremities, possession of certain sensory organs, nor sociality, language, or culture. Rather the reader is left with a confused understanding of humanity. What is clear, however, is that not all humans were equal in Pliny’s mind.
The line between human and inhuman, or perhaps more precisely human and monster, was (and continues to be) a site of negotiation. Can one become a monster? When does a human become a monster? Is it achieved through acts or physical appearance? For modern-day readers, the designation monster when used in reference to human beings tends to be awarded based on actions. For example, one might come across the following sentence: “Adolf Hitler was a monster.” This usage of the term feels familiar as it is not referring to Hitler as physically monstrous but rather that his horrific actions were the root of his monstrousness. At least in polite conversation, we tend not to use monster as a descriptor for people whose bodies deviate from the norm. Furthermore modern readers tend not to believe that the Cyclopes, mermaids, or Blemmyes are or ever were real. Since the Enlightenment there has been a clear shift away from the belief that humanity is widely diverse in form and an increased skepticism about the existence of seemingly monstrous or magical beings. But for much of the first two millennia of the Common Era, belief in such creatures was widespread. Yet while the other monstrous creatures described by Pliny have been rejected as mere fantasy, the man-eater who dwells on the fringes of civilization has not been rejected so readily. The figure of the cannibal is a central site through which the very definition of human is negotiated. As we move forward in time, it is important to take note of whether or not cannibals were perceived as monstrous humans or humanoid monsters.
Finally, before moving on to a discussion of the discourse of the cannibal in the European Middle Ages, we must pause one more time to interrogate the place of gender, sex, and sexuality. For most classical writers, the default form of humanity was male, and thus any reference to so-called Cannibals primarily signified men. The connection between reported acts of cannibalism and sexual deviance is also important. Taboo sex and cannibalism both represented the corruption of the body; each was seen an embodied act whose existence challenged the hegemonic power of the given society. Thus, regardless of what government or religion held sway, the control of bodies and bodily acts was reserved for the state. It was common in ancient Greece for enemies to be denied proper burial, as is detailed in Sophocles’ play Antigone. The rituals associated with death often center on control of the body. For early Christians the issue of body disposal was fraught with tension as debates over the nature of resurrection, whether it would be bodily or spiritual, raged. The denial of a proper burial or bodily disposal might mean that an individual would never achieve eternal life. In a similar fashion, for early Christians, even while one was still alive defilement of the body risked one’s eternal salvation.
Within the early Christian Church itself there were accusations that certain hidden and mysterious sects did actually perform the kinds of rights that the Romans accused them of. In the fourth century Bishop Epiphanius of Salamis believed that a Gnostic Christian sect known as the Phibionites or Borborites took part in all kinds of illicit and damning acts, including cannibalism:
They [the Phibionites] set the table with lavish provisions for eating meat and drinking wine. But then, after a drinking bout and practically filling the boy’s veins, they next go crazy for each other. And the husband will withdraw from his wife and tell her—speaking to his own wife!—“Get up, perform the Agape with the brother.” . . . For besides, to extend their blasphemy to heaven after making love in a state of fornication, the woman and man receive the male emission on their own hands. And they stand with their eyes raised heavenward but the filth on their hands, and pray, if you please—the one called Stratiotics and Gnostics—and offer that stuff on their hands to the actual Father of all, and say, “We offer thee this gift, the body of Christ.” And then they eat it and partake of their own dirt, and they say, “This is the body of Christ; and this is the Pascha, because of which our bodies suffer and are made to acknowledge the passion of Christ.”29
This lurid description highlights the way acts of cannibalism and sexuality were linked. Not only were they believed to have happened during a single ritual, but their pairing suggests that sexual impropriety set one on a path toward rejection of all that “civilization” held dear. In the vast majority of classical tales of cannibalism, it is the body of an infant or a young man who is consumed, linking the act of human consumption with homosexual acts. In the previous example, semen is both an offering for God and the body of Christ itself. If we understand that accusations of cannibalism in some way represent the fear of the most horrific elements of human nature, and the fear that such horrors existed hidden in plain sight even in the “civilized world,” then the connection between cannibalism and sexuality (in particular nonprocreative sex) takes on greater importance. The fear of cannibalism carries with it the fear of female desire and “inappropriate” male desire. When the norms of gender and sexuality are subverted, when women commit adultery or become promiscuous or when men copulate with other men, the social body itself is threatened. The presence of unbridled indulgence of the flesh (whether through sex or consumption) indicated a society and a social order that was out of control.
Medieval Western Europe
As Christianity spread and the early Church was still developing its canon, a large number of texts about Jesus and his disciples were written, most of which have since been deemed apocryphal. Among these was the Acts of Andrew, written around the middle of the third century. The most common version of the Acts traces the proselytizing efforts and miracles of Saint Andrew after the death and resurrection of Jesus. In addition to the more well-known and accepted version, another account of Andrew’s exploits was written in Greek at the end of the fourth century. This version, called the Acts of Andrew and Matthias, the Acts of Matthew and Andrew in the City of Cannibals, or the Acts of Andrew and Matthias among the Anthropophagi, is a much more fanciful rendition of the tale. The edition that remains is an Old English translation of a no longer extant Latin translation of the original Greek.30 The traditional Acts of Andrew mentions nothing about cannibalism, which is a prominent feature of the more dubious Acts of Andrew and Matthias.
The Acts of Andrew and Matthias begins with Saint Matthew’s journey to spread the gospel of Jesus in the city of Marmadonia (Mermodonia in some versions), which was supposed to be in Scythia. The Marmadonians are described in less than flattering terms: “The men who were in this city ate no bread and drank no water, but ate men’s flesh and drank their blood. And whatever foreign man who came into the city, it says that they immediately seized him and put out his eyes, and they gave him a potion to drink that was blended with much witchcraft, and when he drank this drink, immediately his heart was undone and his mind overturned.” Unsurprisingly Matthew is captured and imprisoned upon his arrival in the city. While in prison, he prays to God for his deliverance. God answers, telling him that after twenty-seven days Andrew will come to his rescue. The Lord convinces Andrew to go to Marmadonia and rescue Matthew. Andrew then boards a ship, which turns out to be helmed by God himself in disguise, who warns him of the great torments that he will suffer on this mission. However, God also
