Showing posts with label Oedipus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Oedipus. Show all posts

 The story of Oedipus (Οἰδίπους, Oidípous) was written by playwright Sophocles. The playwright wrote three plays about him: Oedipus the King, Oedipus at Colonus, and Antigone. Together, these are called the Theban plays. Sophocles was not the only one to write about him, though: fragments of his story exist in the works of Hómēros, Hesiod, Pindar, Aeschylus and Euripides. Sophocles was simple one of the latest authors to write about him, and the version that was preserved best was his. He has Oedipus wander to Thebes after killing his father. Here, he finds the Sphinx at the gates to the city--a city that is starving and slowly emptying out, as the Sphinx will not allow anyone to pass without answering her riddle. Those who answer the riddle incorrectly, get killed or eaten (depending on the author).


The Sphinx is not mentioned by every author. Some, like Hómēros, only mention the oracle that Oedipus' father got, and Oedipus' murder of his father, and marriage to his mother. Hesiod mentions the Sphinx, but does not mention Oedipus. The Sphinx in Sophocles' Oedipus the King never speaks, and the words of the riddle are never conveyed. The sole mention of the riddle is as follows:

"See, for this crown the State conferred on me.
A gift, a thing I sought not, for this crown
The trusty Creon, my familiar friend,
Hath lain in wait to oust me and suborned
This mountebank, this juggling charlatan,
This tricksy beggar-priest, for gain alone
Keen-eyed, but in his proper art stone-blind.
Say, sirrah, hast thou ever proved thyself
A prophet? When the riddling Sphinx was here
Why hadst thou no deliverance for this folk?
And yet the riddle was not to be solved
By guess-work but required the prophet's art;
Wherein thou wast found lacking; neither birds
Nor sign from heaven helped thee, but I came,
The simple Oedipus; I stopped her mouth
By mother wit, untaught of auguries."

Apollodorus is one of the first to mention the very words of the riddle and has them as follows, including the tale of Oedipus' involvement:

"For Hera sent the Sphinx, whose mother was Echidna and her father Typhon; and she had the face of a woman, the breast and feet and tail of a lion, and the wings of a bird. And having learned a riddle from the Muses, she sat on Mount Phicium, and propounded it to the Thebans. And the riddle was this:— What is that which has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed? Now the Thebans were in possession of an oracle which declared that they should be rid of the Sphinx whenever they had read her riddle; so they often met and discussed the answer, and when they could not find it the Sphinx used to snatch away one of them and gobble him up. When many had perished, and last of all Creon's son Haemon, Creon made proclamation that to him who should read the riddle he would give both the kingdom and the wife of Laius. On hearing that, Oedipus found the solution, declaring that the riddle of the Sphinx referred to man; for as a babe he is four-footed, going on four limbs, as an adult he is two-footed, and as an old man he gets besides a third support in a staff. So the Sphinx threw herself from the citadel, and Oedipus both succeeded to the kingdom and unwittingly married his mother, and begat sons by her, Polynices and Eteocles, and daughters, Ismene and Antigone. But some say the children were borne to him by Eurygania, daughter of Hyperphas."

There are other versions of the riddle, but this is the one best known. Note that in older versions of the tale, Oedipus was not such a smart man at all. In fact, he was more of a warrior-hero like Hēraklēs. With the popularity of Odysseus, it was convenient to transform Oedipus into a cunning man, instead of a brawler. In the older art depicting the encounter between Oedipus and the Sphinx, he outright kills her. There is no riddle, and no suicide. She is a monster, who is vanquished by the hero, who collects his reward in the form of a wife.

Personally, I like the inclusion of the Riddle of the Sphinx. In general, I prefer the clever heroes over the brawling ones. I'm also a big fan of these types of riddles, although I'm terrible at solving them. 
The story of Oedipus (Οἰδίπους, Oidípous) was written by playwright Sophocles. The playwright wrote three plays about him: Oedipus the King, Oedipus at Colonus, and Antigone. Together, these are called the Theban plays. Sophocles was not the only one to write about him, though: fragments of his story exist in the works of Hómēros, Hesiod, Pindar, Aeschylus and Euripides. Sophocles was simple one of the latest authors to write about him, and the version that was preserved best was his. He has Oedipus wander to Thebes after killing his father. Here, he finds the Sphinx at the gates to the city--a city that is starving and slowly emptying out, as the Sphinx will not allow anyone to pass without answering her riddle. Those who answer the riddle incorrectly, get killed or eaten (depending on the author).

The Sphinx is not mentioned by every author. Some, like Hómēros, only mention the oracle that Oedipus' father got, and Oedipus' murder of his father, and marriage to his mother. Hesiod mentions the Sphinx, but does not mention Oedipus. The Sphinx in Sophocles' Oedipus the King never speaks, and the words of the riddle are never conveyed. The sole mention of the riddle is as follows:

"See, for this crown the State conferred on me.
A gift, a thing I sought not, for this crown
The trusty Creon, my familiar friend,
Hath lain in wait to oust me and suborned
This mountebank, this juggling charlatan,
This tricksy beggar-priest, for gain alone
Keen-eyed, but in his proper art stone-blind.
Say, sirrah, hast thou ever proved thyself
A prophet? When the riddling Sphinx was here
Why hadst thou no deliverance for this folk?
And yet the riddle was not to be solved
By guess-work but required the prophet's art;
Wherein thou wast found lacking; neither birds
Nor sign from heaven helped thee, but I came,
The simple Oedipus; I stopped her mouth
By mother wit, untaught of auguries."

Apollodorus is one of the first to mention the very words of the riddle and has them as follows, including the tale of Oedipus' involvement:

"For Hera sent the Sphinx, whose mother was Echidna and her father Typhon; and she had the face of a woman, the breast and feet and tail of a lion, and the wings of a bird. And having learned a riddle from the Muses, she sat on Mount Phicium, and propounded it to the Thebans. And the riddle was this:— What is that which has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed? Now the Thebans were in possession of an oracle which declared that they should be rid of the Sphinx whenever they had read her riddle; so they often met and discussed the answer, and when they could not find it the Sphinx used to snatch away one of them and gobble him up. When many had perished, and last of all Creon's son Haemon, Creon made proclamation that to him who should read the riddle he would give both the kingdom and the wife of Laius. On hearing that, Oedipus found the solution, declaring that the riddle of the Sphinx referred to man; for as a babe he is four-footed, going on four limbs, as an adult he is two-footed, and as an old man he gets besides a third support in a staff. So the Sphinx threw herself from the citadel, and Oedipus both succeeded to the kingdom and unwittingly married his mother, and begat sons by her, Polynices and Eteocles, and daughters, Ismene and Antigone. But some say the children were borne to him by Eurygania, daughter of Hyperphas."

There are other versions of the riddle, but this is the one best known. Note that in older versions of the tale, Oedipus was not such a smart man at all. In fact, he was more of a warrior-hero like Hēraklēs. With the popularity of Odysseus, it was convenient to transform Oedipus into a cunning man, instead of a brawler. In the older art depicting the encounter between Oedipus and the Sphinx, he outright kills her. There is no riddle, and no suicide. She is a monster, who is vanquished by the hero, who collects his reward in the form of a wife.

Personally, I like the inclusion of the Riddle of the Sphinx. In general, I prefer the clever heroes over the brawling ones. I'm also a big fan of these types of riddles, although I'm terrible at solving them. 
The well-preserved ruins of a 5th century BC home from the Ancient Greek colony of Apollonia Pontica, today’s Sozopol on Bulgaria’s Black Sea coast, have been discovered during rescue digs together with numerous artifacts, which include an Attica red-figure pottery krater (a large ceramic wine vessel) depicting the myth about Oedipus and the Sphinx. The rescue excavations were led by archaeologists Pavlina Devlova and Iliya Kirov from the National Museum of History in Sofia.


The 5th century BC red-pottery krater depicting Oedipus and the Sphinx was discovered underneath the foundations of a 1826 home, in a dig that also contained pottery and coins from both the Antiquity period and the Middle Ages.

“[We have] exposed a well preserved structure with a rectangular shape (a residence) with materials from the end of the 6th – 5th century BC."

They add that they have also discovered three pits hewn into the rocks from the Classical Period of Ancient Greece containing materials from the 5th – 4th century BC.

“During the archaeological excavations, [we have found] numerous items which belonged to the ancient residents of Apollonia Pontica."

The artifacts in question include imported luxury ceramics, red-figure pottery, sgraffito pottery, pottery lamps, loom weights, spindle parts, coins, amphora seals, an arrow coin (more arrow coins were discovered in Bulgaria’s Sozopol in 2016), ceramic game pieces, adornments.

The krater is probably the most impressive find from the 2017 rescue excavations and it has now been unveiled to the public in the 2017 Bulgarian Archaeology Exhibition at the National Institute and Museum of Archaeology in Sofia.
   
The krater in question was produced following an Ancient Greek decoration style known as red-figure pottery, which was in use between the 6th and the 3rd century BC. Red-figure ceramics were produced primarily on the Attica Peninsula as well as in Southern Italy and Etruria.

According to the Oedipus myths, the Sphinx, a mythical creature with a human head and a lion’s body, guarded the entrance to the Ancient Greek city of Thebes. The Sphinx would ask travelers a riddle to let them pass, and would strangle and devour those who would fail to give the right answer.
Her riddle was, “Which creature has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed?”

Oedipus, the son of Laius and Jocasta, the king and queen of Thebes, answered her riddle correctly by saying, “Man – who crawls on all fours as a baby, then walks on two feet as an adult, and then uses a walking stick in old age".

In addition to the 5th century BC Attica krater depicting Oedipus and the Sphinx, another intriguing and well preserved ceramic vessels discovered in the latest excavations on the Skamni Peninsula in Bulgaria’s Sozopol is a ceramic askos, an ancient vessel with a specific shape used for pouring small amounts of liquids.
Ancient Hellenic mythology is full of creatures, and many of them are part human, part animal. A short overview of the most prominent today. We don't know, exactly, why hybrid creatures are so often depicted in (Hellenic) mythology, by the way. Some say it's just entertainment, others that it's a way to relate with our more "animalistic" side. The ancient Hellenes were very aware of the fact that societal rules were all that distinguished humans from animals, which might explain why these hybrids were considered so terrifying!


The Centaur
Centaurs are depicted as half man, half horse; having the torso of a man extending where the neck of a horse should be. They were said to be wild, savage, and lustful, and in very old Hellenic artwork, they were often depicted as fully human, with a horse's end added to them. Somehow (prior to Harry Potter, anyway), Centaurs ended up being regarded as cute and cuddly, but most Centaurs in the ancient myths were very scary, and very dangerous.

The Chimera The Chimera is described as a composite creature, with the body and maned head of a lion, a goat's head rising from its back, a set of goat-udders, and a serpentine tail. There was only one, and it was slain by Bellerophon, but that does not have to mea anything in dreams.

Echidna
In Hellenic mythology, Echidna was a half-woman and half-snake who lived alone in a cave. She was the mate of the fearsome monster Typhon, and known primarily for being the mother of monsters, including many of the most famous monsters of Hellenic myth.

Harpy
The Harpyiai (Ἁρπθιαι) were the spirits of sudden, sharp gusts of wind. They were known as the hounds of Zeus and were despatched by the god to snatch away (harpazô) people and things from the earth. Sudden, mysterious dissappearances were often attributed to the Harpyiai. They are (most often) consdered the daughters of Thaumas and Elektra. They are depicted as birds with the head of a woman.

The Gorgons
The most famous of Gorgons is undoubtedly Médousa (Μέδουσα). In ancient Hellas, however, Médousa was one of three sisters, Khthonic daímōns called Gorgons. They were named Médousa, Stheno (Σθεννω), and Euryale (Ευρυαλη), and were born to the ancient marine deities Phorkys (Φόρκυς) and Keto (Κητώ), his sister. They were part of the Phorcides (Φόρκιδες), the offspring of Phorkys. Their sisters were Echidna (Ἔχιδνα, half woman, half snake), the Graiai (Γραῖαι, 'old women', sharing one tooth and one eye), and Ladon (Λάδων, the dragon serpent who guarded the golden apples in the garden of the Hesperides).

The Hippalectryon The Hippalectryon was a beast with the foreparts of a horse and the tail, wings and hind-legs of a rooster.The creature occurs only in early Athenian vase painting, and may be based on an early artistic rendering of the winged horse Pegasos. It is awesome, however, and you cannot tell me that a creature that looked like that would not scare you half to death if it came upon you.

Manticores
Mantikhoras (Μαντιχορας) were Persian monsters with the body of a lion, the face of a man, and a spike-tipped arrow-shooting tail. The name 'Manticore' may have been derived from a Persian word meaning 'man-eater', and that did seem to be a favored past time of the creature.

Minotaur
Minos, king of Krete, requested Poseidon raise a bull from the sea, which the king promised to sacrifice; but when Minos refused to do so, Poseidon caused his wife Pasiphaê to fall in love with the bull. The child that came from this union was deformed in such a way that he had the head of a bull and the body of a man. It was locked in the labyrinth beneath the the palace, and eventually vanquished by Theseus.

Ophiotaurus, or Tauros OphisThis serpent-bull is a terrifying monster that deserves mention on the list. It was born with the foreparts of a black bull and the tail of a serpent and was slain by an ally of the Titanes in their search for a victory against Zeus during the Titanomachy.

Satyrs
Satyrs weren't considered evil, but they were definitely dangerous and wild. The satyrs were considered constant companions of Dionysos and had goat-like features and often permanent erections.

Siren
The Sirens are dangerous creatures who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island. Sirens were believed to combine women and birds in various ways. In early Greek art, Sirens were represented as birds with large women's heads, bird feathers and scaly feet. Later, they were represented as female figures with the legs of birds, with or without wings, playing a variety of musical instruments, especially harps.

Sphinx
A sphinx is a mythical creature with the head of a human, the haunches of a lion, and sometimes the wings of a bird. It is mythicised as treacherous and merciless. Those who cannot answer its riddle are killed and eaten. This deadly version of a sphinx appears in the myth and drama of Oedipus, for example.
Yesterday I posted about Sophia Pavlaki initiative to build an educational program around ancient Hellenic toys. This is but one example how Greeks and non-Greeks alike are trying to bridge between now and then. We're at the cusp of (or perhaps even in the middle of) a resurgence of ancient Hellenic stories themed entertainment content. And there is a good reason why.

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This summer will see writers from Colm Tóibin to Natalie Haynes put a fresh spin on ancient tragedies, while Hellenic myths continue to inspire every thing from young adult fiction and children’s literature--the Waterstones children’s book of the month for February is Maz Evans’ riotous Who Let The Gods Out?--to urban fantasies such as Jordanna Max Brodsky’s Olympus Bound series. Even television is set to get in on the act: Troy: Fall of a City, the BBC’s much-anticipated Trojan war drama, starts filming next month and will air in 2018.

Melissa Cox is editorial director at Hodder & Stoughton, whose Sceptre imprint recently published a short story collection, How Much the Heart Can Hold, in which seven writers including Donal Ryan, Bernadine Evaristo and Nikesh Shukla look at seven Hellenic definitions of love. She says:

"What we’re seeing is that the times we are living in have forced us to acknowledge that there is a darkness in humanity. The Greek tragedies, those stories of darkness and obsession and revenge, resonate because we’re living in dark times and these are dark stories. As an editor, if someone came to me with a book inspired by Greek mythology, I’d be very excited."

Derek Wax, executive producer of Troy: Fall of a City, agrees.

"David Farr [the show’s writer] and I went to the site of Troy and it really brought home how these great mythical events illuminate what’s going on at the moment. We were standing where eight or nine other cities have stood, near to Gallipoli, the epicentre of other conflicts, and close to where refugees were leaving on boats for Lesbos. It showed us that little has changed since Homer wrote of the devastation of war."

Just as there are many versions of Hellenic tragedies and myths, so there are many different ways for an author to recast the tale, in particular by allowing the story’s women to take centre stage. Thus Tóibin’s elegant House of Names takes the fall of the House of Agamemnon, which forms the basis of a number of Greek plays and stories, including Aeschylus’s Oresteia, Euripides’ Orestes and Sophocles’ Electra, and tells it from the point of view of Clytemnestra, grieving mother, adulterous wife, and murderer. Meanwhile Haynes’ The Children of Jocasta retells the story of Oedipus through the eyes of his wife (and mother) Jocasta and their youngest daughter, Ismene. She explains:

"I was drawn to Jocasta because she has so few lines in Sophocles’ play, which seems amazing when you consider that her actions drive the story. It’s fascinating that the play constantly highlights how clever and quick-witted Oedipus is and how that’s his fatal flaw, but no one ever mentions how smart Jocasta is as well – she is the one who figures out why they’re cursed. She gets there before he does and I thought she would be an interesting way into the tale."

She picked the lesser-known Ismene over her flashier sister Antigone (herself the subject of a Sophocles play) for a specific reason:

"[I chose her] because she’s this lovely, overlooked sort of person who is left just as grief-stricken as Antigone, and who suffers the same losses she does – more – by the end of the play. She’s collateral damage. Giving her a voice gave her the chance to shine."

A similar motivation propels Emily Hauser’s 2016 debut novel For The Most Beautiful, which looks at the Trojan war through the two female slaves, Briseis and Chryseis, whose role as spoils of war kickstarts the action of The Iliad, causing Agamemnon and Achilles to fall out.

"Their role is so central to everything that happens and yet they’re also incredibly marginalised characters. I thought it would be really interesting to look at The Iliad from that perspective, because once you start seeing it through the eyes of women, and women who have been captured as slaves at that, it gives the whole story a different tenor and makes us consider what the true cost of war might be."

Her next novel For The Winner, due out in June, looks at the story of Jason and the Argonauts through Atalanta, the only woman on the journey, who would later famously lose a race after being distracted by golden apples as she ran.

"I’ve always found Atalanta’s story interesting because it seems so obviously told from a male perspective of a woman being easily distracted. I started thinking about why she would allow that to happen, and the book is an attempt to explain what her motivation might have been in that final race."

But is there an audience for these modern takes on ancient tales? Wax says there definitely is.

"We were very clear that we didn’t want this series to be a sword-and-sandals epic. This is a story about complex family dynamics, about identity, betrayal and belonging. There are huge emotional depths to these stories – many of which are later explored by the writers of the Greek tragedies who reinterpret them as their own – and we felt, why not do the same ourselves? It’s a completely different time, yet one that feels strangely similar. These myths may be 3,000 years old but the story they tell still grips."

Haynes agrees.

"I made a documentary for Radio 4 about the links between Greek tragedy and modern day soap operas. All those stories about generation against generation and brothers at war come directly from Greek tragedy and we’re still drawing on them today. I also recently gave a talk at a secondary school about Oedipus and when we got to the climax of the tale there were gasps. That’s not my gift as storyteller – that’s the calibre of the story being told. They resonate because they are so good."

The Children of Jocasta by Natalie Haynes is published by Mantle on 4 May; The House of Names by Colm Tóibin is published by Viking on 18 May; For The Winner by Emily Hauser is published by Doubleday on 15 June.
When I was still an avid D&D player, my group tended to happen or seek out an oracle or diviner quite often. In one campaign, my character famously ended up leading the entire arty to its death because he didn't understand the oracular messages he was receiving in his dreams. No one was mad, though: that character was truly the worst character I ever played to send oracular messages to.

Oracles tend to be vague in some way: either you have a binary oracle, which gives you a 'yes' or 'no' answer but doesn't give you any details or nuance (i.e. "am I going to die?" "yes", but there is no way to discern when it is going to happen), or a conversational oracle like at Delphi, which tended to give a riddle for an answer--one that could be, and often was, misinterpreted.

A beautiful example of this is King Kroisos (Κροῖσος), the king of Lydia from 560 to 547 BC, who asked Apollon at Delphi if he should continue his campaign against the Persians. Apollon answered that, if he did attacked the Persians, "he would destroy a great empire". Kroisos figured this meant he would succeed while, in the end, it was his own that was destroyed.

Us D&D players learned early on that, if we wanted an answer we could use from the oracles we procured, we needed to be crystal clear in the way we asked our question. I'm fairly certain the ancient Hellenes would have realized this too: if there is no room for ambiguity in the question, a lot of hardship can be prevented, after all. If the oracular question is: "Who will be king?", the answer can be quite vague, indeed, but if the question is 'Give us the name of the man who will rule Athens as king after the king who now sits on the throne of Attica is no longer able to", there will be a lot less room for maneuvering. So why, in general, didn't the ancient Hellenes phrase their answers differently?

I, for one, think there are at least two primary reasons: one answer is that the ancient Hellenes might simply have liked riddles and riddling situations. The sage Kleoboulos (Κλεόβουλος) who lived around 600 BC collected more than 3,000 riddles. The most famous heroes of Hellenic myth excelled in solving riddles; Oedipus, for example, who cracked the riddle of the Sphinx. The ancient heroes also excelled in disguising one thing as another, which requires a shrewdness one must also possess to solve a riddle. Most famously, Odysseus did this with the wooden horse at Troy, and again in the cave of the Cyclops where he hid himself away and told the Cyclops his name was 'no one', so that when the Cyclops called out for aid, he could only say that no one was hurting him--and so his fellow Cyclops' did not come to his aid.

Many--if not all--myths are layered with meaning, challenging the reader or listener to go beyond the story to find valuable lessons on life and the Theoi. it seems the ancient Hellenes had a knack for encoding and decoding meaning, and might have enjoyed this so much, they did not want to take away from their oracular messages by forcing a 'yes' or 'no' answer.

A second answer may be that the ancient Hellenes considered riddles as oracular messages acceptable might be destiny. What shall come to pass, will come to pass if the Theoi so desire. The oracular message and the interpretation of the subject and those around him have a part to play in how events are about to unfold. If the subject is destined to 'change his destiny', he will understand the hidden meaning and act accordingly; if he isn't, he will fail to see beyond the hidden meaning and the events will come to pass, regardless. One of the best examples of this is Aegeus, who visited the oracle of Delphi to get an answer on how to beget a son. in the famous words of Apollodorus in his 'Library':

"After the death of Pandion his sons marched against Athens, expelled the Metionids, and divided the government in four; but Aegeus had the whole power. The first wife whom he married was Meta, daughter of Hoples, and the second was Chalciope, daughter of Rhexenor. As no child was born to him, he feared his brothers, and went to Pythia and consulted the oracle concerning the begetting of children. The god answered him:
 
'The bulging mouth of the wineskin, O best of men, loose not until thou hast reached the height of Athens.'
 
Not knowing what to make of the oracle, he set out on his return to Athens. And journeying by way of Troezen, he lodged with Pittheus, son of Pelops, who, understanding the oracle, made him drunk and caused him to lie with his daughter Aethra. But in the same night Poseidon also had connection with her. Now Aegeus charged Aethra that, if she gave birth to a male child, she should rear it, without telling whose it was; and he left a sword and sandals under a certain rock, saying that when the boy could roll away the rock and take them up, she was then to send him away with them."

For those who have no idea of the identity of the child: the child was the great hero Theseus, and the Gods seem to have decreed that Theseus should be born by Aethra, not Chalciope, and those who understood--and did not understand--the oracular message did so for a reason.

Riddles were and are important tools, and they make divination such a difficult--and dangerous--thing to do. When I track the movement of birds, or when I lay down tarot cards, I know that I am perceiving a riddle, not an answer. The answer is in there, somewhere, but never be fooled into thinking that what you see is all there is to see: it might be all you were meant to see, however.
In the blog post about sayings which can be traced back to ancient Hellas or Hellenic mythology, I make mention of Oedipus. The saying he is connected to--the Freudian Oedipus complex--introduced Oedipus and explains the saying:

"Oedipus was born to King Laius and Queen Jocasta. King Laius was fortold his son would kill him and marry his mother, and so he left him to die on a mountainside. The child was found, however, and raised by King Polybus and Queen Merope. Oedipus eventually heard of the prophecy about him and fled, not wanting to hurt his adoptive parents, who he believed to be his biological ones. Fate would have him end up on the same road as King Laius, and in an argument over whom would step out of the way, Oedipus killed his father. He then traveled on and eventually met and married his mother. The myth continues on, but this is the part where the figure of speech comes from."

Today, I want to go a little deeper into this myth, to a milestone in the life of Oedipus. I quite recently acquired a little vase with a depiction of Oedipus solving the riddle of the Sphinx. It's a replica of a kylix motif. This seems like a perfect opportunity to tackle this story.

 

The story of Oedipus (Οἰδίπους, Oidípous) was written by playwright Sophocles. The playwright wrote three plays about him: Oedipus the King, Oedipus at Colonus, and Antigone. Together, these are called the Theban plays. Sophocles was not the only one to write about him, though: fragments of his story exist in the works of Hómēros, Hesiod, Pindar, Aeschylus and Euripides. Sophocles was simple one of the latest authors to write about him, and the version that was preserved best was his. He has Oedipus wander to Thebes after killing his father. Here, he finds the Sphinx at the gates to the city--a city that is starving and slowly emptying out, as the Sphinx will not allow anyone to pass without answering her riddle. Those who answer the riddle incorrectly, get killed or eaten (depending on the author).

The Sphinx is not mentioned by every author. Some, like Hómēros, only mention the oracle that Oedipus' father got, and Oedipus' murder of his father, and marriage to his mother. Hesiod mentions the Sphinx, but does not mention Oedipus. The Sphinx in Sophocles' Oedipus the King never speaks, and the words of the riddle are never conveyed. The sole mention of the riddle is as follows:

"See, for this crown the State conferred on me.
A gift, a thing I sought not, for this crown
The trusty Creon, my familiar friend,
Hath lain in wait to oust me and suborned
This mountebank, this juggling charlatan,
This tricksy beggar-priest, for gain alone
Keen-eyed, but in his proper art stone-blind.
Say, sirrah, hast thou ever proved thyself
A prophet? When the riddling Sphinx was here
Why hadst thou no deliverance for this folk?
And yet the riddle was not to be solved
By guess-work but required the prophet's art;
Wherein thou wast found lacking; neither birds
Nor sign from heaven helped thee, but I came,
The simple Oedipus; I stopped her mouth
By mother wit, untaught of auguries."

Apollodorus is one of the first to mention the very words of the riddle and has them as follows, including the tale of Oedipus' involvement:

"For Hera sent the Sphinx, whose mother was Echidna and her father Typhon; and she had the face of a woman, the breast and feet and tail of a lion, and the wings of a bird. And having learned a riddle from the Muses, she sat on Mount Phicium, and propounded it to the Thebans. And the riddle was this:— What is that which has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed? Now the Thebans were in possession of an oracle which declared that they should be rid of the Sphinx whenever they had read her riddle; so they often met and discussed the answer, and when they could not find it the Sphinx used to snatch away one of them and gobble him up. When many had perished, and last of all Creon's son Haemon, Creon made proclamation that to him who should read the riddle he would give both the kingdom and the wife of Laius. On hearing that, Oedipus found the solution, declaring that the riddle of the Sphinx referred to man; for as a babe he is four-footed, going on four limbs, as an adult he is two-footed, and as an old man he gets besides a third support in a staff. So the Sphinx threw herself from the citadel, and Oedipus both succeeded to the kingdom and unwittingly married his mother, and begat sons by her, Polynices and Eteocles, and daughters, Ismene and Antigone. But some say the children were borne to him by Eurygania, daughter of Hyperphas."

There are other versions of the riddle, but this is the one best known. Note that in older versions of the tale, Oedipus was not such a smart man at all. In fact, he was more of a warrior-hero like Hēraklēs. With the popularity of Odysseus, it was convenient to transform Oedipus into a cunning man, instead of a brawler. In the older art depicting the encounter between Oedipus and the Sphinx, he outright kills her. There is no riddle, and no suicide. She is a monster, who is vanquished by the hero, who collects his reward in the form of a wife.

Personally, I like the inclusion of the Riddle of the Sphinx. In general, I prefer the clever heroes over the brawling ones. I'm also a big fan of these types of riddles, although I'm terrible at solving them. For now, I'm just going to enjoy my latest addition to the collection, and leave you with a question of my own: would you have known the answer to the Sphinx' riddle, if it had been asked of you?