I was in need of a little mythology today, and took out my copy of the ancient Hellenic myths translated to Dutch by B.C. Goudsmit and H.A. Guerber. The book is old, from around 1915, and it's one of my favourite translations. When I'm in need of a mythology fix, I enjoy opening it to a random page and reading whatever myth comes up. Today, that was the myth of Atalanta.
Atalanta (Ἀταλάντη) was usually considered the daughter of Iasus, king of either
Tegaea or Maenalos, by Klymene, daughter of Minyas. Her father wanted a son, so
he abandoned her in the forest where a bear suckled her until Artemis sent
hunters to rescue her. She could outshoot anyone with the bow and was also the
most fleet-footed mortal alive with the exception of Euphemos and Iphiklos of
Phylake. When still young, she killed two centaurs, Rhoecos and Hyaelos, who had
attempted to rape her. She also took part in the Kalydonian boar hunt and was a
member of the
Argonautai
who went out to retrieve the Golden Fleece.
Atalanta is my all-time favourite heroine. She kicks ass and because I read about her, I'd like to share a bit about her today, in the words of Claudius Aelianus. Claudius Aelianus (Κλαύδιος Αἰλιανός) was alive from around 175 to 235 CE. He is often referred to as 'Aelian'. He was a Roman author and teacher of rhetoric. While Roman born, he spoke fluent Greek and loved the ancient Hellenic writing styles. Varia Historia (Ποικίλη Ἱστορία) is one of his best known surviving works. The work contains miscellangelous anecdotes and biographical sketches, lists, pithy maxims, and descriptions of natural wonders and strange local customs. There are fourteen books in total. In book 13, he describes the myth of Atalanta. Enjoy!
"Here is the story from Arkadia about Atalanta the daughter of Iasion. At birth her father exposed her; he said he wanted sons, not daughters. But the man who took her to be exposed did not kill her, and instead went to Mount Parthenion and put her down near a spring. At that point there was a cave in the rocks, and close by it a dense wood. The child was under sentence of death, but she was not betrayed by fortune, for shortly afterwards arrived a bear, deprived of her cubs by hunters, her breasts bulging and weighed down with milk. Moved by some divine inspiration she took a fancy to the child and suckled it. In this way the animal simultaneously achieved relief from pain and gave nourishment to the infant. And so, still full of milk and supplying nourishment though she was no longer mother to her cubs, she nursed the child who was not her own. The hunters who had originally attacked her young kept an eye on her. They watched all her movements, and when the bear made her usual journey to hunt and feed, they stole Atalanta, who was not yet so named, for it was they who gave her the name. She was brought up by them in the mountains, and slowly her body grew with age. She was committed to virginity, avoided contact with men, and longed for solitude. She established herself in the highest mountains of Arkadia, where there was a well-watered glen with big oak trees, also pines with their deep shadow.
What harm does it do us to hear of Atalanta’s cave, like Kalypso’s in the Odyssey? At the bottom of the defile was a large and very deep cave, at the entrance protected by a sheer drop. Ivy encircled it, the ivy gently twined itself around trees and climbed up them. In the soft deep grass there crocuses grew, accompanied by hyacinths and flowers of many other colours, which can not only create a feast for the eye; in fact their perfume filled the air around. In general the atmosphere was of festival, and one could feast on the scent. There were many laurels, their evergreen leaves so agreeable to look at, and vines with very luxuriant clusters of grapes flourished in front of the cave as proof of Atalanta’s industry. A continuous stream of water ran by : pure in appearance and cold, judging by the touch and the effect of drinking it; it flowed in generous and lavish quantity. This very stream served to water the trees already mentioned, with an unfailing current contributing to their vigour. The spot was full of charm, and suggested the dwelling of a dignified and chaste maiden.
Atalanta slept on the skins of animals caught in the hunt, she lived on their meat and drank water. She wore simple clothes, in a style that did not fall short of Artemis’ example; she claimed the goddess as her model both in his and in her wish to remain a virgin. She was very fleet of foot, and no wild animal or man with designs on her could have escaped her; and when she wanted to escape, no one could have caught her. It was not just those who saw her that fell in love with her; by now her reputation won her lovers.
Now let us describe her appearance, if that is not unwelcome--and it is not, since form it one might gain experience and skill in writing. While still a girl she was bigger than a full-grown woman, and more beautiful than any young woman from the Peloponnesos in those days. She had a fiery, masculine gaze, partly the result of having been nurtured by an animal, but also because of her exercise in the mountains. But since she was full of spirit, there was nothing girlish or delicate about her; she was not the product of the women’s apartments, not one of those brought up by mothers and nurses. Nor was her body overweight, not surprisingly, since she exercised every limb in hunting and physical exercise. Her hair was golden, not due to feminine sophistication, dyes, or applications, but the colour was natural. Exposure to the sun had reddened her face and it looked just as if she was blushing. What flower could be so beautiful as the face of a young woman taught to be modest? She had two astonishing qualities : unrivalled beauty, and with it a capacity to inspire fear. No indolent man would have fallen in love on looking at her, nor would he have had the courage to meet her gaze in the first place; such radiance with beauty shone over those who saw her. To meet her was remarkable, especially since it happened rarely; no one would have easily spotted her. But unexpectedly and unforeseen she would appear, chasing a wild beast or fighting against one; darting like a star she flashed like lightning. Then she raced away, hidden by a wood or thicket or other mountain vegetation.
One day her neighbours, audacious lovers and very tiresome revellers, burst in upon her noisily at midnight; they were two of the Kentauroi (Centaurs), Hylaios and Rhoikos. Their noisy interruption was not done with flute players or in the style of young men from the city; there were pine torches, which they lit and made to burn fiercely; the first sight of fire would have terrified even the population of a city, let alone a solitary young woman. Breaking fresh branches off the pines they wove them together and made garlands for themselves. The incessant, continuous sound of hooves was heard in the mountains; they burned trees and made towards the young woman, evil suitors who in a violent and over-excited state brought gifts for the wedding in advance. But she saw through their plan. From the cave she caught sight of fire and realised who the revellers were; not flinching or cowed by what she saw she bent her bow, shot her weapon, and hit the first of them directly. He lay there, and the other advanced, no longer in the mood of a reveller but with hostile intent, wishing to defend his companion and vent his anger. But he too was punished, by the young woman’s other arrow. So much on the subject of Atalanta, daughter of Iasion." [13.1]
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