Constellation Pisces: the fishes

Pisces is a constellation of the zodiac. Its name is the Latin plural for 'fish'. It lies between Aquarius to the west and Aries to the east. The ecliptic and the celestial equator intersect within this constellation and in Virgo.

During the Titomanchy, the Olympians were in for a rough fight when Zeus led them against the Titans. One of their toughest fights was against the storm-giant Typhôeus (Τυφωευς), a fight so tough, in fact, that the Olympians had to flee from battle. Pisces is associated with Aphrodite and Eros, the who escaped from the monster Typhôeus, the most-feared son of Tartaros and Gaea, by leaping into the sea and transforming themselves into fish. In order not to lose each other, they tied themselves together with rope. Alternatively, the fish represent the Ikhthyes (Ιχθυες), a pair of large Syrian river fish who rescued Aphrodite and Eros when they were fleeing. Thirdly, they may be solely the fishes Aphros and Bythos, the fish-tailed Ikhthyokentauroi (Sea-Centaurs) of late classical art, who pulled Aphrodite to safety after her birth in the ocean. Hyginus says of the first option in his 'Astronomica':

"Diognetus Erythraeus says that once Venus and her son Cupid came in Syria to the river Euphrates. There Typhon, of whom we have already spoken, suddenly appeared. Venus and her son threw themselves into the river and there changed their forms to fishes, and by so doing this escaped danger. So afterwards the Syrians, who are adjacent to these regions, stopped eating fish, fearing to catch them lest with like reason they seem either to oppose the protection of the gods, or to entrap the gods themselves." [II.30]

Roman poet Ovid has an adaption about the second option, noted down in 'Fasti':

"[N]ext in turn do thou, O Fish, receive the heavenly steeds. They say that thou and thy brother (for ye are constellations that sparkle side by side) did support twain gods upon your backs. Once on a time Dione,55 fleeing from the dreadful Typhon, when Jupiter bore arms in defence of heaven, came to the Euphrates, accompanied by the little Cupid, and sat down by the brink of the Palestinian water. Poplars and reeds crowned the top of the banks, and willows offered hope that the fugitives also could find covert there. While she lay hid, the grove rustled in the wind. She turned pale with fear, and thought that bands of foes were near. Holding her child in her lap, “To the rescue, nymphs!” she said, “and to two deities bring help!” Without delay she sprang forward. Twin fish received her on their backs, wherefore they now possess the stars, a guerdon meet. Hence scrupulous Syrians count it sin to serve up such fry upon the table, and will not defile their mouths with fish." [2.458]

In all cases, the fishes were accepted into the heavens for their aid lend, and Aphrodite and Eros were safe, having escaped Typhôeus.

Pisces is visible at latitudes between +90° and −65°, and best visible at 21:00 (9 p.m.) during the month of November.

• Saturday, September 4, 2021
  Aphrodite Constellation series Eros Hyginus Mythology 101 Ovid Titanomachy

Question Collections post 25

 I get a lot of questions from readers, and most of the time, the answers are fairly short. When I feel the question or the reply would be valuable to others as well, I make a post with a collection of them and post them in one go. Today is one of those posts.

"How can I learn to do divination through the Limyran Oracle?"

                                       

The Limyran Oracle, or ‘Alphabet Oracle’, is marketed as an authentic ancient Hellenic alphabet oracle, which was taken from an inscription in Olympos, a city in ancient Lycia. I haven’t been able to find much on it save a few websites, but the University of Tennessee Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science website has a version of it up for inspection. Please turn to that link for the full explanation, but let me give you the start:

The oracle works as follows: each letter of the alphabet has a corresponding oracle, and the first word of the oracle (in Greek) begins with that letter. There are at least three methods of consulting the alphabet oracle, according tot he article.

The first uses a set of twenty-four stones or potsherds, each inscribed or painted with a letter of the alphabet. When you want to consult the oracle, pick a stone without looking. According tot he article, one ancient method was to shake the stones in a bowl or frame drum until one jumped out. Stones used in this way would be called psêphoi in Ancient Greek.

A second method is to use, five knuckle bones, called astragaloi. Cast all five at once or one five times. Knucklebones have four ‘sides’, traditionally given the values 1 (Monas), 3 (Trias), 4 (Tetras), and 6 (Hexas), according tot he article. There are 24 possible total values from five knucklebones: 5 to 30, excepting 6 and 29, which are impossible. The highest cast would be associated with Alpha and the lowest with Omega (so Alpha = 30, Beta = 28, Gamma = 27, …, Psi = 7, Omega = 5). Say you throw 3, 6, 6, 4, and 1, your number is 20, which links to the letter 'K’, Kappa.

In the third way, five dice (cuboi, tesserae) are cast. Like with the knuckle bones, there are twenty-six possible total values, 5 through 30, which are associated in decreasing order with the Greek letters, including the archaic Digamma (Wau) and Qoppa. There are no oracles for Digamma and Qoppa, however, and so these need to be recast. The sum is the same as with the knuckle bones as well, add the results of all dice together and you will get the corresponding letter.

The website goes on to list a chart with the number, the numerical value by knuckle bones or dice, and the oracular message that corresponds with the letter, as taken from an inscription allegedly in Olympos. They read anywhere from 'Gaia will give you the ripe fruit of your labors’, to 'You will have a parting from the {Tôn} companions now around you’, and 'You will have a difficult {Ômos} harvest season, not a useful one’.

 

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"hi! i love your blog and appreciate you answering questions and writing really enlightening posts, so thank you for all that! :) i have two questions that i hope you can answer. i'm agender and was wondering whether agender people (or non-binary people in general) "existed" in ancient greece? like, were they talked about, accepted, not accepted? also, which gods do you think could be associated with something like being agender?"

 

Gender was pretty important in ancient Hellas, and no matter how they might have identified, it seems pretty much everyone was forced to assume the role of the gender they were born in. So no, I do not know of any examples of clear agender characters in ancient Hellenis mythology, nor of any real-life examples. You were trained from birth how to behave as a boy or a girl and that path was continued down through the years. There are, however, a few instances of gender switching and other diviations from the traditional binary.

I must, of course, start with Hermaphroditos (Ἑρμαφρόδιτος), who is the child of Aphrodite and Hermes. He became a minor deity of bisexuality and effeminacy, and was portrayed as a female figure with male genitals. In the myth told by the Roman poet Ovid, Hermaphroditos was born fully male. As a young man, he wandered the lands and encountered a nymph, Salmacis (Σαλμακίς), in her pool. Salmacis fell for the boy right away, tried to seduce him. Hermaphroditos rebuked her, but she still jumped him when undressed for a bath in her pool. As he tried to fight her off, Salmacis cried out for the Theoi to let them stay forever merged–upon which the Theoi agreed: the two fused together, becoming the first hermaphrodite. 

I’ve mentioned before that Ovid’s myths aren’t reflective of ancient Hellenic mythology–and in Hellenic myth, Hermaphroditos was either born with both male and female part, or he was simply very feminine in that he had pale skin and was very delicate, while still possessing the strength of a male. Especially in the latter case, there is a beautiful gender duality in Hermaphroditos that I much appreciate.

Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses’ is the source for a few other Hellenic-inspired Roman myth: the myth about the immensely strong warrior Kaineus (Καινεύς), for example, who was born as a woman named Kainis, and asked to be transformed into a male after being raped by Poseidon (or Hermes). Poseidon agrees, and makes Kaineus impervious to mortal weapons to boot, making him a capable warrior. Kaineus is mentioned in ancient classics like the Illiad, but without the gender-shift. In the Illiad, he is one of the earlies heroic, and extraordinary, warriors.

Another of Ovid’s metamorphoses happens to Teiresias (Τειρεσίας), the blind prophet from Thebes. There is more Hellenic support for this myth, however. As the story goes, Teiresias was out one day, and came upon a pair of snakes, who were mating in the bush. He swiftly hit them over the head with a stick and killed both of them. Hera witnessed his actions and was not pleased: she transformed Teiresias into a woman. After recovering from the shock, Teiresias accepted her fate and married. She also became a priestess of Hera to make up for her crime. Eventually, Teiresias had children and a decent life. Yet, when he came upon another pair of mating snakes seven years later, he either clubbed them to death again, or left them alone. Either action let to another change of sex: Teiresias was male again. How his husband dealt with this is unclear. In a later myth, Hera blinds the prophet when he is asked to settle a dispute between her and Zeus: who enjoys sex more, male or female. Teiresias, who has experienced both, must side with Zeus: women most definitely enjoy sex more.

A myth of which only fragments have survived is the story of Siproites of Krete, who saw Artemis bathing in the woods one day, and was changed by her into a woman. Why this exact punishment was placed upon Siproites is unclear.

The last myth I’ll retell is the one about Leucippus (Λεύκιππος), who was born female to Lamprus and Galatea. Lamprus had warned Galatea that he would only accept a male child, so when Leucippus turned out to be female, Galatea hid the gender of the child from her husband and raised Leucippus as male. Of course, once Leucippus reached adolescence, her gender became hard to hide. In some versions of the myth, Leucippus fell for the girl next door, making it even more prudent that Leucippus became the male she wanted to be. And so, Galatea went to the temple of Leto and prayed to turn her daughter into the son she had promised her husband. Leto, moved by the mother’s plea, did as she was asked. The people of Phaistos, there the myth took place, honored Leto by her epithet 'Phytia’ (to grow, φύω), in reference to Leucippus’ newly grown penis. The people of Phaistos also founded a feast called the 'Ekdysia’ (undressing, ἑκδύω), because Leucippus was no longer forced to wear women’s clothes. It also became custom for the women of Phaestus to lie next to the statue of Leucippus before their wedding.

I hope this helps some :)

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"i once called myself a hellenic reconstructionist, but it doesn't fit me anymore because i right now don't have the time or energy to be as recon as it takes to call myself that (if that makes sense...). so i'm starting to call myself a revivalist hellenic polytheist ("hellenic revivalist"?). i guess my question is if i can still say i belong in hellenismos? because i like that the religion has a name, but now that i'm less recon i'm not sure if i'm "allowed" to say hellenismos is my religion..?"

 

Hellenism is a sort of catch-all for anyone who worships the Hellenic Gods exclusively. The degree of Recon doesn't really change that. Feel free to use the term, as far as I am concerned :) The only terms that I do care about are the level of Recon you would ascribe yourself as it influences practice, viewpoints, and more of those things that would influence the conversation. But one thing is for certain: we all worship the Theoi and to me, that is all that is needed to call yourself a Hellenist!

• Wednesday, June 23, 2021
  ancient Hellenic culture Hellenismos 101 Hermaphroditos Oracles Ovid personal Question Collections Post requested post

Misconceptions about Narkissos

In the most common version of the myth, Narkissos (Narcissus, Νάρκισσος) was a hunter from Thespiae in Boeotia who was known for his beauty. He was the son of the river God Kephissos (Cephissus) and nymph Liriope. He was proud, in that he disdained those who loved him. Nemesis noticed this behavior and attracted Narkissos to a pool, where he saw his own reflection in the water and fell in love with it, not realizing it was merely an image. Unable to leave the beauty of his reflection, Narcissus lost his will to live. Narkissos is the origin of the term 'narcissism', a fixation with oneself and one's physical appearance and/or public perception.

The Roman poet Ovid is our primary source on the myth of Narkissos, but he was, as I said, Roman. Ovid, and Roman mythology in general, has been a subject on this blog before, and always comes with a disclaimer that these views were not, in fact, Hellenic. I have mentioned in passing that I don't feel the Hellenic and Roman Gods are one and the same, although they are often painted as the same Gods with a different name, and often times, the myths the Romans knew were different from the Hellenic myths they were based on. Sometimes these differences are subtle, sometimes (like in the myth of Médousa) and also Narkissos, they are not.

The version by Ovid, found in book 3 of his Metamorphoses (completed 8 AD) is the story of Echo and Narcissus. One day Narcissus was walking in the woods when Echo, an Oread (mountain nymph) saw him, fell deeply in love, and followed him. Narcissus sensed he was being followed and shouted "Who's there?". Echo repeated "Who's there?" She eventually revealed her identity and attempted to embrace him. He stepped away and told her to leave him alone. She was heartbroken and spent the rest of her life in lonely glens until nothing but an echo sound remained of her. Nemesis learned of this story and decided to punish Narcissus. She lured him to a pool where he saw his own reflection. He did not realize it was only an image and fell in love with it. He eventually recognized that his love could not be reciprocated and withered away like Echo did.

The oldest version of the myth currently known to us, ascribed to the poet Parthenios of Nicaea (Παρθένιος ὁ Νικαεύς), composed around 50 BC, differs. It was found in fragments in ancient rubbish dumps at Oxyrhynchus in Egypt. The papyrus fragment is one of tens of thousands that were found in the late 19th and early 20th century. These dumps, now fully excavated, are the world's largest source of ancient writings, accounting for 70 percent of all known literary papyri. Many are kept at Oxford but the majority have still not been fully transcribed and translated. It was during work on these remaining manuscripts that the Narkissos fragment was found. This is what was written:

(NARCISSUS)
... god-like ...
... ...
He had a cruel heart, and hated all of them,
Till he conceived a love for his own form:
He wailed, seeing his face, delightful as a dream,
Within a spring; he wept for his beauty.
Then the boy shed his blood and give it to the earth
... to bear

There is also another ancient Hellenic version by Conon, in his Narrations 24, which differs from Ovid's account even though they were contemporaries. Conon was a Hellenic mythographer who lived from the 1st century BC to 1st century AD.

"Ameinias was a very determined but fragile youth. When he was cruelly spurned by Narkissos (Narcissus), he took his sword and killed himself by the door, calling on the goddess Nemesis to avenge him. As a result when Narkissos saw the beauty of his form reflected in a stream he fell deeply in love with himself. In despair and believing that he had rightly earned this curse for the humiliation of Ameinias, he slew himself. From his blood sprang the flower."

These versions of the Narcissus story is much more concise than Ovid's. Ovid devotes many verses to the nymph Echo, who in her unrequited love for Narkissos wastes away. There is no trace of her either in the papyrus text, nor Conon's account. There, Narkissos is a young boy and his lovers are all male. Ovid also distinguishes himself from the other two authors by having Narkissos, like Echo, simply waste away. His body mysteriously disappears, and when the nymphs come to collect it, they find a flower in its place. In Conon's version, as in the new papyrus, the boy kills himself. In Parthenios' version, no flower is mentioned, but (as a kind of midway form) the narcissus flower is mentioned by Conon. 

There are no older versions of this myth we are aware of than the version by Parthenios, which stems from 50 BC. If the ancient Hellenes in the fourth or third century BC even knew of Narkissos is thus questionable. They may have, or they may not have. The more you know, right?

• Tuesday, June 15, 2021
  ancient Hellenic culture Conon Echo Mythology 101 Narcissus Ovid Parthenius Roman

Constellation Cygnus: the swan

Some constellations have barely any mythology connected to them, or are so entrenched in a major epic that writing about them is very straight forward. Others, not so much. Cygnus is one of them. This particular swan can be any of six mortal or immortal men.

One can not mention a swan in connection to Hellenic mythology and not think of the love affair between Zeus and Leda, the affair that led to the birth of some very influential people in Hellenic mythology. Leda (Λήδα) was the daughter of the Aetolian king Thestius (Θέστιος), and wife of the king Tyndareus (Τυνδάρεως), of Sparta. Zeus looked upon the beautiful Leda and fell for her instantly. In the guise of a swan, He came to her, seeking refuge in her arms from an eagle. Leda sheltered Him, and lay with Him--either after He transformed into a man, or while He was still a swan. That night, she also slept with her husband. She became pregnant and gave birth to two eggs, one housing Helene (Ἑλένη) and Klytaemnestra (Κλυταιμνήστρα), and the other Kastor and Polideukes (Κάστωρ καὶ Πολυδεύκης). Its also said that Zeus laid with Nemesis and She gave birth to an egg that housed either Helene alone, or her sister as well. A shepherd found the egg and took it to Leda, who hatched it, and adopted the child or children. In the first case, the swan is Zeus, in the latter, the swan was placed in the sky to celebrate the birth of Helene.

The second male the constellation is identified with is Orpheus. After being forced to leave Euridice in the Underworld, he travels the world with his lyre. He renounces both women, and many of the Theoi, pained as he is by the loss of his beloved wife. One day, he either sacrifices to Apollon--one of the few, or even the only Theoi he still offers to--at a shrine to Dionysos, and is discovered by the female revelers. Alternatively, the revelers stumble upon him as he plays, and they can't appreciate his divine music, or a group of women falls upon him for denouncing women. Whatever the case, Orpheus is ripped apart. His lyre is placed into the sky, and he is placed in the sky near the lyre by Zeus in the form of a swan. Plato explains this odd choice in his 'Republic', when he speaks of reincarnation:

"He said it was a strange, pitiful, and ridiculous spectacle, as the choice was determined for the most part by the habits of their former lives. He saw the soul that had been Orpheus’, he said, selecting the life of a swan, because from hatred of the tribe of women, owing to his death at their hands, it was unwilling to be conceived and born of a woman." (X, 620a)

I'm going to conflate the last four. All of them were named 'Kyknos' (Κύκνος). The first was a bloodthirsty son of Ares, who slaughtered all his guests when they came to his door. Hēraklēs killed him, either in self-defense, or in honorable battle. In one version of the story, Ares transforms His son into a swan before Hēraklēs can deliver his deathly blow, preferring this solution over his son's death. The second Kyknos was the son of Poseidon, and King of Kolonai. As the son of Poseidon, he was impervious to both spear and sword attacks, as such, he was suffocated by Achilles during the battle for Troy. After his death, this Kyknos, too, was turned into a swan.

The third Kyknos was a human King of Ligûria, and friend--or lover--of Phaëthon, son of Hēlios. When Phaëthon was killed by Zeus after scorching the earth, Kyknos was inconsolable. He spent the rest of his life mourning Phaëthon. To relief his suffering, Zeus transformed him in a swan, and was later put into the sky by Apollon. The last of the Kyknos' associated with this myth was a son of Apollon. This Kyknos was a handsome but arrogant man. Many young boys fell for his looks, but his personality drove them off again. One of the young men, Phylios, loved Kyknos unconditionally, but Kyknos felt the need to test Phylios' resolve, trying to scare him off. The first task was to kill a lion that was threatening the neighborhood without use of any weapons. The second task was to catch two man-eating vultures of enormous size that were posing an equal threat to the neighborhood, again without use of any devices. Finally, Phylios had to bring a bull to the altar of Zeus with his own bare hands. With divine help, Phylios managed to complete all three tasks, but Hēraklēs cured the boy of his love for Kyknos. Kyknos, enraged and humiliated, took his own life by drowning. His mother did the same. Out of love for the both of them, Apollon turned them both into swans. In the words of Roman poet Ovid, in his Metamorphoses:

"Whilst here, within the dismal gloom, alone, 

The melancholy monarch made his moan, 

His voice was lessen'd, as he try'd to speak, 

And issu'd through a long-extended neck; 

His hair transforms to down, his fingers meet 

In skinny films, and shape his oary feet; 

From both his sides the wings and feathers break; 

And from his mouth proceeds a blunted beak: 

All Cycnus now into a Swan was turn'd, 

Who, still remembering how his kinsman burn'd, 

To solitary pools and lakes retires, 

And loves the waters as oppos'd to fires."

(II 374-382)

The next time you look to the heavens and see constellation Cygnus, you'll have quite the stories to tell. The constellation is visible at latitudes between +90° and −40°, and best visible at 21:00 (9 p.m.) during the month of September.

• Tuesday, April 20, 2021
  astronomy Constellation series Euridice Helene Hēraklēs Klytaemnestra Kyknos Leda Mythology 101 Orpheus Ovid Phaëthon Ptolemy Zeus

Constellation Cetus: the whale

Remember when I basically said that with Cepheus, we had come to the end of the Andoméda-related constellations? Yeah, I unintentionally lied. There is one more: Cetus, located in the aquatic portion of the sky, where many water-related constellations are places.

Cetus is the Latin spelling of the name; the ancient Greek form was Kētos (Κῆτος), or Kêtos Aithiopios (Κητος Αιθιοπιος, Ethiopian Monster). It was the name of the sea monster sent by Poseidon as a favor to the sea God Nereus, who was insulted by the queen of Ethiopia, Cassiopeia, who boasted that either her daughter, or she, or both were equal or even greater in beauty than Nereus' children, the Nereids.

Cetus tormented the coast of Ethiopia, drowning many and wiping entire towns off of the map. Ethiopia's king, Cepheus, went to an oracle to find out how to stop the suffering of his people, and was told to chain his daughter to a rock on a cliff so Cetus could devour her. The royal family resisted, but eventually did what they were told. What happens next is beautifully told by Roman poet Ovid in his Metamorphoses:

"Chain'd to a rock she stood; young Perseus stay'd his rapid flight, to view the beauteous maid. So sweet her frame, so exquisitely fine, she seem'd a statue by a hand divine, had not the wind her waving tresses show'd, and down her cheeks the melting sorrows flow'd. Her faultless form the heroe's bosom fires; the more he looks, the more he still admires. Th' admirer almost had forgot to fly, and swift descended, flutt'ring from on high. O! Virgin, worthy no such chains to prove, but pleasing chains in the soft folds of love; thy country, and thy name (he said) disclose, and give a true rehearsal of thy woes. 

A quick reply her bashfulness refus'd, to the free converse of a man unus'd. Her rising blushes had concealment found from her spread hands, but that her hands were bound. She acted to her full extent of pow'r, and bath'd her face with a fresh, silent show'r. But by degrees in innocence grown bold, her name, her country, and her birth she told: and how she suffer'd for her mother's pride, who with the Nereids once in beauty vy'd. Part yet untold, the seas began to roar, and mounting billows tumbled to the shore. Above the waves a monster rais'd his head, his body o'er the deep was widely spread.

[...] So when the monster mov'd, still at his back the furrow'd waters left a foamy track. Now to the rock he was advanc'd so nigh, whirl'd from a sling a stone the space would fly. Then bounding, upwards the brave Perseus sprung, and in mid air on hov'ring pinions hung. His shadow quickly floated on the main; the monster could not his wild rage restrain, but at the floating shadow leap'd in vain. As when Jove's bird, a speckl'd serpent spies, which in the shine of Phoebus basking lies, unseen, he souses down, and bears away, truss'd from behind, the vainly-hissing prey. To writh his neck the labour nought avails, too deep th' imperial talons pierce his scales. Thus the wing'd heroe now descends, now soars, and at his pleasure the vast monster gores. Full in his back, swift stooping from above, the crooked sabre to its hilt he drove. The monster rag'd, impatient of the pain, first bounded high, and then sunk low again. Now, like a savage boar, when chaf'd with wounds, and bay'd with opening mouths of hungry hounds, he on the foe turns with collected might, who still eludes him with an airy flight; and wheeling round, the scaly armour tries of his thick sides; his thinner tall now plies: 'Till from repeated strokes out gush'd a flood, and the waves redden'd with the streaming blood. 

At last the dropping wings, befoam'd all o'er, with flaggy heaviness their master bore: a rock he spy'd, whose humble head was low, bare at an ebb, but cover'd at a flow. A ridgy hold, he, thither flying, gain'd, and with one hand his bending weight sustain'd; with th' other, vig'rous blows he dealt around, and the home-thrusts the expiring monster own'd. In deaf'ning shouts the glad applauses rise, and peal on peal runs ratling thro' the skies. The saviour-youth the royal pair confess, and with heav'd hands their daughter's bridegroom bless. The beauteous bride moves on, now loos'd from chains, the cause, and sweet reward of all the heroe's pains"

Cetus was visualized by the ancient Hellenes as a hybrid creature, with enormous gaping jaws and the forefeet of a land animal, attached to a scaly body with huge coils like a sea serpent. In some ancient drawings, Cetus comes out more comical than frightening, but the Cetus of myth was nothing to laugh at. Other visualizations of Cetus are in the form of a whale. This is mostly due to the latinization of the name; Cetus is the Latin word for the order Cetacea which includes the whales, dolphins, and porpoises.

The constellation Cetus is visible at latitudes between +70° and −90°, and best visible at 21:00 (9 p.m.) during the month of November.

• Thursday, March 18, 2021
  Androméda astronomy Cassiopeia Cepheus Constellation series Mythology 101 Ovid Ptolemy

Constellation Cepheus: the king

When a whole family gets uplifted into the sky, the breakdown of their constellations gets a little repetitive over time, sorry about that. When we last saw the Aethiopia ruling family, we discussed the constellations Androméda and Cassiopeia. Today, we close the trilogy with Capheus, father of Andromeda, and husband to Cassiopeia, and add a good bit of info to the myth.

Cepheus was king of Aethiopia when he heard his wife Cassiopeia boast that her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids. Shocked, he tried to silence his wife, but it was too late. The father of the Nereids, the sea God Nereus, heard Cassiopeia's prideful boast and brought his grievance to Poseidon. Poseidon ruled in favor of Nereus and sent Cetus, a huge sea monster, to ravage the coasts of Aethiopia. It destroyed villages, kept fishermen off of the sea and caused huge floods that killed hundreds at a time. A cry went up from the people for Cepheus to remedy the situation and to appease the Gods. Cepheus, desperate, traveled to the oracle of Apollon (or Zeus) to hear how he could solve the suffering of his people. The Oracle told him that Nereus would only be appeased when he sacrificed his daughter to Cetus.

Stricken with grief, Cepheus raised his hands to the sky--the position he was immortalized in--and prayed for another resolve of the situation that would not lead to the death of his much beloved daughter. The Theoi, however, remained silent. Cepheus resisted the oracle's message as long as he could, but eventually, the anguish of his people became too much for a king to withstand. In other versions of the myth, Androméda (like Iphigeneia) offered herself up to be sacrificed, as she realized her life was not worth the lives of all those who were dying now.

Androméda was chained to the cliffs near the palace, and awaited her faith there, while both Cepheus and Cassiopeia looked on with immense sadness. Thankfully, Androméda was rescued from her fate by Perseus, on his way back from defeating Médousa. King Cepheus hosted a huge wedding banquet at his palace to celebrate the wedding. There was one problem, however: Androméda had already been promised to Phineus, Cepheus' brother. While the celebrations were in progress, Phineus and his followers bursted in, demanding that Androméda be handed over, which Cepheus refused to do--too grateful to Perseus for rescuing his daughter from certain death. Ovid has described the battle that ensued in the Metamorphoses, but before the battle begins, we first get a speech by Cepheus to his brother, who begs him to let his claim to Androméda go:

"Hold, brother, hold; what brutal rage has made your frantick mind so black a crime conceive? 

Are these the thanks that you to Perseus give? This the reward that to his worth you pay, whose timely valour sav'd Andromeda? Nor was it he, if you would reason right, that forc'd her from you, but the jealous spight of envious Nereids, and Jove's high decree; And that devouring monster of the sea, that ready with his jaws wide gaping stood to eat my child, the fairest of my blood. 

You lost her then, when she seem'd past relief, and wish'd perhaps her death, to ease your grief 

With my afflictions: not content to view Andromeda in chains, unhelp'd by you, her spouse, and uncle; 

will you grieve that he expos'd his life the dying maid to free? And shall you claim his merit? 

Had you thought her charms so great, you shou'd have bravely sought that blessing on the rocks, where fix'd she lay: but now let Perseus bear his prize away, by service gain'd, by promis'd faith possess'd; 

To him I owe it, that my age is bless'd still with a child."

Phineus refused to listen to reason, and threw a spear at Perseus, who barely managed to dodge it. After that, all hell broke loose. Perseus cut down many of his attackers, turning the remainder to stone by showing them the head of Médousa. Eventually, he hailed victorious, and got to carry off his bride. In doing so, he left Cassiopeia and her husband to the fate of Poseidon, who would still have His revenge. As such, He took both Cassiopeia and Cepheus up into the sky and placed them near each other in the heavens. Poseidon placed Cassiopeia close to the North Celestial Pole on her throne, spending half of her time clinging to it so she does not fall off. In old portraits of the constellation, she is seen as either tied to her throne--which most often resembles a torture device--or desperately clinging to it. Later on, she was depicted as holding a mirror (or palm leaf) to show her vanity. 

However, because Cepheus had nothing to do with Cassiopeia's original declaration, because he had done everything in his power to make things right afterwards, and he had plead his case to the Gods again and again, Cepheus was placed into the sky unchained--either regally on his throne or with his hands raised in pious prayer--and a little further away from the pole. He still circles it in punishment, but his position is a lot less precarious than that of his wife. 

The constellation Cepheus is visible at latitudes between +90° and −10°, and best visible at 21:00 (9 p.m.) during the month of November, the same as the constellations of his wife and daughter.

• Friday, March 12, 2021
  Androméda astronomy Cassiopeia Cepheus Constellation series Iphigeneia Ovid Perseus Phineus Poseidon Ptolemy

The flight of Íkaros

 "...but most of all I love Icarus, who knew the wax would melt but still flew towards the sun."

 -- 'Ik hou van Icarus' - Tjitske Jansen (translated from Dutch)

One of my all-time favorite Hellenic myths is about Íkaros; Daidalos' son who escaped the labyrinth on the island of Krete with wings made of feathers and wax. He was warned not to fly too high because the sun would melt the wax, or too low because wet feathers wouldn't carry him, yet Íkaros got too caught up with the marvel of flying, and did fly too high or too low. As a result, he drowned somewhere between the island and the main land.

Daidalos (Δαίδαλος) was an inventor, a craftsman, who had murdered a gifted student of his--his nephew--in a fit of jealousy. This caused him to flee his home town (most often referred to as Athens, although there are some timeline problems if this was the case) and find refuge on Krete. King Minos saw in Daidalos a gifted man, and asked him to draw and constructed the labyrinth of the Minotaur, son of King Minos. Because he knew the secrets of the labyrinth, and the deformations of the Minotaur, he was never permitted to leave the island.

As often, many details of this myth come from the Roman poet Ovid. In earlier versions of the tale, the labyrinth is an actual labyrinth: it has one pathway that leads inexorably from the entrance to the goal, albeit by the most complex and winding of routes. In Ovid's version--and other like him--the labyrinth is not a labyrinth at all, but a maze: a design with choices in pathways, aimed to confuse the seeker. In fact, Ovid's version of the 'labyrinth' is so complex that Daidalos himself almost gets lost in it:

"Great Daedalus of Athens was the man

That made the draught, and form'd the wondrous plan;

Where rooms within themselves encircled lye,

With various windings, to deceive the eye.

As soft Maeander's wanton current plays,

When thro' the Phrygian fields it loosely strays;

Backward and forward rouls the dimpl'd tide,

Seeming, at once, two different ways to glide:

While circling streams their former banks survey,

And waters past succeeding waters see:

Now floating to the sea with downward course,

Now pointing upward to its ancient source,

Such was the work, so intricate the place,

That scarce the workman all its turns cou'd trace;

And Daedalus was puzzled how to find

The secret ways of what himself design'd."

(The Labyrinth)

It takes many years for Daidalos to get restless on the island, but when he does, he goes to King Minos and asks to be set free. Minos refuses him every time, and eventually, Daidalos is forced to think of another plan. Being a master craftsman, he constructs wings of feathers, wax, and string, and creates one for his young son, Íkaros (Ἴκαρος) as well. Apollodorus describes the tale in a very compact manner in his Epitome:

"On being apprized of the flight of Theseus and his company, Minos shut up the guilty Daedalus in the labyrinth, along with his son Icarus, who had been borne to Daedalus by Naucrate, a female slave of Minos. But Daedalus constructed wings for himself and his son, and enjoined his son, when he took to flight, neither to fly high, lest the glue should melt in the sun and the wings should drop off, nor to fly near the sea, lest the pinions should be detached by the damp.

 But the infatuated Icarus, disregarding his father's injunctions, soared ever higher, till, the glue melting, he fell into the sea called after him Icarian, and perished. But Daedalus made his way safely to Camicus in Sicily. [E.1.12 / E.1.13]

It's important to note that not all historians and writers in ancient Hellas quite agreed with the story of Íkaros and his wings. Pausanias mentions that it were not wings at all that carried Daidalos and Íkaros, but boats, crafted especially well by Daidalos:

"Here [at Thebes] is a sanctuary of Herakles. The image, of white marble, is called Promakhos (Champion), and the Thebans Xenokritos and Eubios were the artists. But the ancient wooden image is thought by the Thebans to be by Daidalos, and the same opinion occurred to me. It was dedicated, they say, by Daidalos himself, as a thank-offering for a benefit. For when he was fleeing from Krete in small vessels which he had made for himself and his son Ikaros, he devised for the ships sails, an invention as yet unknown to the men of those times, so as to take advantage of a favorable wind and outsail the oared fleet of Minos. Daidalos himself was saved, but the ship of Ikaros is said to have overturned, as he was a clumsy helmsman. The drowned man was carried ashore by the current to the island, then without a name, that lies off Samos. Herakles came across the body and recognized it, giving it burial where even to-day a small mound still stands to Ikaros on a promontory jutting out into the Aegean. After this Ikaros are named both the island and the sea around it." (Description of Greece 9.11.1.)

Daidalos makes it to the main land. The island Íkaros' body washed upon, was called 'Ikaria' (Ικαρία) from that point on. It still carries that name, and is located ten nautical miles (nineteen kilometers) southwest of Samos. Minos was of no mind to let Daidalos go, however, and so he went from court to court, knowing that a mind as sharp as Daidalos' would be noticed wherever he went. King Minos posed a riddle to every king, as described by Apollodorus:

"And Minos pursued Daedalus, and in every country that he searched he carried a spiral shell and promised to give a great reward to him who should pass a thread through the shell, believing that by that means he should discover Daedalus. And having come to Camicus in Sicily, to the court of Cocalus, with whom Daedalus was concealed, he showed the spiral shell. Cocalus took it, and promised to thread it, and gave it to Daedalus;

And Daedalus fastened a thread to an ant, and, having bored a hole in the spiral shell, allowed the ant to pass through it. But when Minos found the thread passed through the shell, he perceived that Daedalus was with Cocalus, and at once demanded his surrender. Cocalus promised to surrender him, and made an entertainment for Minos; but after his bath Minos was undone by the daughters of Cocalus; some say, however, that he died through being drenched with boiling water." [E.1.14 / E.1.15]

And this was the end of King Minos' hunt and his life. Depending on the source, it might have been Daidalos himself who poured boiling water over King Minos, leading to his death. What happens to Daidalos afterward is unclear. I hope he found a place to remember his son, and build more of his wonderful inventions.

This myth encourages people to look at the consequences of their actions, even those--or especially those--with good intentions. Daidalos' genius cost him his son. On the other hand, whenever I read this myth, Íkaros reminds me that, although great risk comes with a leap of faith, it might just be worth it sometimes. Íkaros chose the dangerous path, and while it led to his death, it also led to one of the most beautiful moments of his life. I'm a cautious person, a tempered person, and remembering Íkaros is a great help in my life sometimes. It reminds me to hunt for happiness, even though the quest requires me to let go of the familiar. I live my life looking for small flights of Íkaros, and I wish the same for you.

• Saturday, October 10, 2020
  Apollodorus Daidalos Íkaros Metamorphoses Minos Mythology 101 Ovid Pausanias

Misconceptions about Narkissos

In the most common version of the myth, Narkissos (Narcissus, Νάρκισσος) was a hunter from Thespiae in Boeotia who was known for his beauty. He was the son of the river God Kephissos (Cephissus) and nymph Liriope. He was proud, in that he disdained those who loved him. Nemesis noticed this behavior and attracted Narkissos to a pool, where he saw his own reflection in the water and fell in love with it, not realizing it was merely an image. Unable to leave the beauty of his reflection, Narcissus lost his will to live. Narkissos is the origin of the term 'narcissism', a fixation with oneself and one's physical appearance and/or public perception.

The Roman poet Ovid is our primary source on the myth of Narkissos, but he was, as I said, Roman. Ovid, and Roman mythology in general, has been a subject on this blog before, and always comes with a disclaimer that these views were not, in fact, Hellenic. I have mentioned in passing that I don't feel the Hellenic and Roman Gods are one and the same, although they are often painted as the same Gods with a different name, and often times, the myths the Romans knew were different from the Hellenic myths they were based on. Sometimes these differences are subtle, sometimes (like in the myth of Médousa) and also Narkissos, they are not.

The version by Ovid, found in book 3 of his Metamorphoses (completed 8 AD) is the story of Echo and Narcissus. One day Narcissus was walking in the woods when Echo, an Oread (mountain nymph) saw him, fell deeply in love, and followed him. Narcissus sensed he was being followed and shouted "Who's there?". Echo repeated "Who's there?" She eventually revealed her identity and attempted to embrace him. He stepped away and told her to leave him alone. She was heartbroken and spent the rest of her life in lonely glens until nothing but an echo sound remained of her. Nemesis learned of this story and decided to punish Narcissus. She lured him to a pool where he saw his own reflection. He did not realize it was only an image and fell in love with it. He eventually recognized that his love could not be reciprocated and withered away like Echo did.

The oldest version of the myth currently known to us, ascribed to the poet Parthenios of Nicaea (Παρθένιος ὁ Νικαεύς), composed around 50 BC, differs. It was found in fragments in ancient rubbish dumps at Oxyrhynchus in Egypt. The papyrus fragment is one of tens of thousands that were found in the late 19th and early 20th century. These dumps, now fully excavated, are the world's largest source of ancient writings, accounting for 70 percent of all known literary papyri. Many are kept at Oxford but the majority have still not been fully transcribed and translated. It was during work on these remaining manuscripts that the Narkissos fragment was found. This is what was written:

(NARCISSUS)
... god-like ...
... ...
He had a cruel heart, and hated all of them,
Till he conceived a love for his own form:
He wailed, seeing his face, delightful as a dream,
Within a spring; he wept for his beauty.
Then the boy shed his blood and give it to the earth
... to bear

There is also another ancient Hellenic version by Conon, in his Narrations 24, which differs from Ovid's account even though they were contemporaries. Conon was a Hellenic mythographer who lived from the 1st century BC to 1st century AD.

"Ameinias was a very determined but fragile youth. When he was cruelly spurned by Narkissos (Narcissus), he took his sword and killed himself by the door, calling on the goddess Nemesis to avenge him. As a result when Narkissos saw the beauty of his form reflected in a stream he fell deeply in love with himself. In despair and believing that he had rightly earned this curse for the humiliation of Ameinias, he slew himself. From his blood sprang the flower."

These versions of the Narcissus story is much more concise than Ovid's. Ovid devotes many verses to the nymph Echo, who in her unrequited love for Narkissos wastes away. There is no trace of her either in the papyrus text, nor Conon's account. There, Narkissos is a young boy and his lovers are all male. Ovid also distinguishes himself from the other two authors by having Narkissos, like Echo, simply waste away. His body mysteriously disappears, and when the nymphs come to collect it, they find a flower in its place. In Conon's version, as in the new papyrus, the boy kills himself. In Parthenios' version, no flower is mentioned, but (as a kind of midway form) the narcissus flower is mentioned by Conon. 

There are no older versions of this myth we are aware of than the version by Parthenios, which stems from 50 BC. If the ancient Hellenes in the fourth or third century BC even knew of Narkissos is thus questionable. They may have, or they may not have. The more you know, right?

• Sunday, October 4, 2020
  ancient Hellenic culture Conon Echo Mythology 101 Narcissus Ovid Parthenius Roman

I come to this city fearfully, sent as an exile’s book

I'm a little melancholic today, so you get to share in that feeling. The Tristia ("Sorrows" or "Lamentations") is a collection of letters written in elegiac couplets by the Augustan poet Ovid during his exile from Rome. Despite five books of his copious bewailing of his fate, the immediate cause of Augustus's banishment of the most acclaimed living Latin poet to Pontus in AD 8 remains a mystery. Ovid spent several years in the outpost of Tomis and died without ever returning to Rome. The Tristia is not, technically, Hellenic, but I enjoy the read.

I come to this city fearfully, sent as an exile’s book.
Reader, my friend, give a calming hand to the weary
and don’t worry that I might shame you in some way.
No line in this manuscript teaches about love.
My master’s fate is such that the miserable man
should not hide it in any jokes
That work which amused him once in his green age
He now condemns—alas, too late—and hates.
Look what I carry: you will find nothing but sorrow here,
a song which matches its own days.
If the lame song breaks off in alternating lines,
then it comes from the meter’s form or the journey’s length.
If I am not bright with cedar nor smooth from pumice,
it is because I turned red at looking better than my master.
If the letters are shapeless, if they are marred by erasure,
it is because the poet wounded the work with his own tears.
If any words seem by chance not to be Latin,
it is because he wrote them in a barbarous land.
Tell me, readers—if it is not too much—where should I go,
What home should I, a foreign book, seek in this city?

[Ovid, Tristia 3, 1-20]

Source.

• Tuesday, May 5, 2020
  ancient Hellenic culture Ovid personal poetry blogging Roman

Today is International Transgender Day of Visibility, and I am here for it. While I'm a cis-woman, I know some awesome transgendered or otherwise genderqueer individuals, and I want to celebrate their awesomeness today! In true Baring the Aegis style, I'll do this by sharing the myths of some intersexed, gender-shifting, gender-merging or otherwise genderqueer individuals.

I must, of course, start with Hermaphroditos (Ἑρμαφρόδιτος), who is the child of Aphrodite and Hermes. He became a minor deity of bisexuality and effeminacy, and was portrayed as a female figure with male genitals. In the myth told by the Roman poet Ovid, Hermaphroditos was born fully male. As a young man, he wandered the lands and encountered a nymph, Salmacis (Σαλμακίς), in her pool. Salmacis fell for the boy right away, tried to seduce him. Hermaphroditos rebuked her, but she still jumped him when undressed for a bath in her pool. As he tried to fight her off, Salmacis cried out for the Theoi to let them stay forever merged--upon which the Theoi agreed: the two fused together, becoming the first hermaphrodite.

I've mentioned before that Ovid's myths aren't reflective of ancient Hellenic mythology--and in Hellenic myth, Hermaphroditos was either born with both male and female part, or he was simply very feminine in that he had pale skin and was very delicate, while still possessing the strength of a male. Especially in the latter case, there is a beautiful gender duality in Hermaphroditos that I much appreciate.

Ovid's 'Metamorphoses' is the source for a few other Hellenic-inspired Roman myth: the myth about the immensely strong warrior Kaineus (Καινεύς), for example, who was born as a woman named Kainis, and asked to be transformed into a male after being raped by Poseidon (or Hermes). Poseidon agrees, and makes Kaineus impervious to mortal weapons to boot, making him a capable warrior. Kaineus is mentioned in ancient classics like the Illiad, but without the gender-shift. In the Illiad, he is one of the earlies heroic, and extraordinary, warriors.

Another of Ovid's metamorphoses happens to Teiresias (Τειρεσίας), the blind prophet from Thebes. There is more Hellenic support for this myth, however. As the story goes, Teiresias was out one day, and came upon a pair of snakes, who were mating in the bush. He swiftly hit them over the head with a stick and killed both of them. Hera witnessed his actions and was not pleased: she transformed Teiresias into a woman. After recovering from the shock, Teiresias accepted her fate and married. She also became a priestess of Hera to make up for her crime. Eventually, Teiresias had children and a decent life. Yet, when he came upon another pair of mating snakes seven years later, he either clubbed them to death again, or left them alone. Either action let to another change of sex: Teiresias was male again. How his husband dealt with this is unclear. In a later myth, Hera blinds the prophet when he is asked to settle a dispute between her and Zeus: who enjoys sex more, male or female. Teiresias, who has experienced both, must side with Zeus: women most definitely enjoy sex more.

A myth of which only fragments have survived is the story of Siproites of Krete, who saw Artemis bathing in the woods one day, and was changed by her into a woman. Why this exact punishment was placed upon Siproites is unclear.

The last myth I'll retell today is the one about Leucippus (Λεύκιππος), who was born female to Lamprus and Galatea. Lamprus had warned Galatea that he would only accept a male child, so when Leucippus turned out to be female, Galatea hid the gender of the child from her husband and raised Leucippus as male. Of course, once Leucippus reached adolescence, her gender became hard to hide. In some versions of the myth, Leucippus fell for the girl next door, making it even more prudent that Leucippus became the male she wanted to be. And so, Galatea went to the temple of Leto and prayed to turn her daughter into the son she had promised her husband. Leto, moved by the mother's plea, did as she was asked. The people of Phaistos, there the myth took place, honored Leto by her epithet 'Phytia' (to grow, φύω), in reference to Leucippus' newly grown penis. The people of Phaistos also founded a feast called the 'Ekdysia' (undressing, ἑκδύω), because Leucippus was no longer forced to wear women's clothes. It also became custom for the women of Phaestus to lie next to the statue of Leucippus before their wedding.

I doubt the ancient Hellens had any concept of the term 'transgendered', or even related to it--I think the societal gender roles were too strict too even question if your sex matched your gender. Yet, gender and sex were definitely themes in mythology. There are many more examples. To my readers I would ask to become trans* allies--if you are not already--to speak out against injustice, to stand up against hate. Too many people are killed, beaten up, sexually or verbally abused over trans* issues. It's time for the hate to stop, and to remember those who have already lost their lives while living the life they were meant to live. Stop violence, end ignorance, fight hate. Remember, and most of all, celebrate!

• Tuesday, March 31, 2020
  Galatea Hermaphroditos Hermes Iliad Kaineus Lamprus Leto Leucippus Mythology 101 Ovid Poseidon Siproites Teiresias

The prisoners of Tartaros

Some random mythology today! In early Hellenic cosmogony Tartaros was the great pit beneath the earth. The cosmos was imagined as a great sphere or void, with the upper half of its shell formed by the dome of heaven, and the lower half by the pit of Tartaros. Inside, this cosmic sphere was divided in two by the flat disc of earth. Above was the dwelling place of gods and men, and below was the gloomy, storm-wracked prison of the Titanes. Haides, the realm of the dead, was originally quite distinct from the pit of Tartaros. It was located either at the very ends of the earth, beyond the river Okeanos and the setting of the sun; or in the hollow depths of earth's belly. Tartaros on the other hand, lay as far beneath Haides as the sky lay above the earth. Tartaros was secured with a surrounding wall of bronze set with a pair of gates, guarded by the hundred-handed Hekatonkheir giants, warders of the Titanes.

Later classical writers reimagined Tartaros as the hellish prison-house of the damned. Plato, in 'Gorgias' describes the then-modern views on Tartaros:

"Now in the time of Kronos there was a law concerning mankind, and it holds to this very day amongst the gods, that every man who has passed a just and holy life departs after his decease to the Isles of the Blest (Nesoi Makaron), and dwells in all happiness apart from ill; but whoever has lived unjustly and impiously goes to the dungeon of requital and penance which, you know, they call Tartaros." [523a]

Throughout Hellenic mythology, quite a few people were locked away in Tartaros and for no reason at all, I felt the need to collect some of these today, along with their cautionary tales.

King Sísyphos

Sísyphos (Σίσυφος) was a king; the king of Ephyra, the area now known as Corinth to be exact. For those who enjoy figuring out the convolutd family trees of the ancient kings, he was the son of King Aeolus of Thessaly and Enarete, and the father of Glaucus, Ornytion, Almus, and Thersander by the nymph Merope, the brother of Salmoneus, and the grandfather of Bellerophon through Glaucus. He was a very bright man, with a good mind for ruling. Unfortunately, he was also a proud man, and a deceitful one at that. He ruled his city with an iron fist, and killed visitors, breaking xenia and raising the ire of Zeus Xenios.

Sísyphos is not generally known for his deeds in life; he is far better known for his deeds in death. According to Hellenic mythology, Sísyphos is condemned to roll a rock up to the top of a mountain in Tartaros, only to have the rock roll back down to the bottom every time he reaches the top. The Gods, it seems, are well aware that working a dead end job without pay-off is one of the worst things that can happen to a person. There are various stories about Sísyphos and how he earned this fate. Apollodorus, in his Library, writes the following:

"Sisyphus is punished in Hades by rolling a stone with his hands and head in the effort to heave it over the top; but push it as he will, it rebounds backward. This punishment he endures for the sake of Aegina, daughter of Asopus; for when Zeus had secretly carried her off, Sisyphus is said to have betrayed the secret to Asopus, who was looking for her." [1.9.3]

According to Pherecydes (Frag. 78 in Müller, Fragmenta Historicum Graecorum, i. p. 91) Sísyphos told Asopus that Zeus had carried off his daughter Aegina, but continues to say that Zeus punished him by sending Death after him. Cunning as he was, Sísyphos managed to trick Death and bound him, so that men ceased to die, until Ares came to the rescue, released Death, and gave Sísyphos to Him. Before he died, however, Sísyphos told his wife Merope to omit his funeral rites, so that Hades, being deprived of his customary offerings, would be persuadable to let him go back to life in order to complain of his wife’s neglect. Hades did, indeed, let him go to deal with his wife, but when he refused to return, and had to be fetched back by Hermes, his well-known punishment ensued.

King Tántalos

This king cut up his son Pelops, boiled him, and served him as food when he was invited to dine with the Gods. He also stole the ambrosia from the Gods and told his people its secrets. Another story mentioned that he held onto a golden dog forged by Hephaestus and stolen by Tántalos' friend Pandareus. Tantalus (Τάνταλος) held onto the golden dog for safekeeping and later denied to Pandareus that he had it. Tántalos' punishment for his actions was to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree with low branches. Whenever he reached for the fruit, the branches raised his intended meal from his grasp. Whenever he bent down to get a drink, the water receded before he could get any. Over his head towered a threatening stone like that of Sisyphus. From the 'Odysseia':

"I [Odysseus] saw Tantalus in agonising torment, in a pool of water reaching to his chin. He was tortured by thirst, but could not drink, since every time he stooped eagerly the water was swallowed up and vanished, and at his feet only black earth remained, parched by some god. Fruit hung from the boughs of tall leafy trees, pears and pomegranates, juicy apples, sweet figs and ripe olives. But whenever the old man reached towards them to grasp them in his hands, the wind would sweep them off into the shadowy clouds." [Bk XI:541-592]

Ixion

Ixion (Ἰξίων), king of the Lapiths (Λαπίθαι), fell in love with Hera after being invited up to Olympos by Zeus. Zeus decided to test his integrity after He discovered His guest' lust for Hera. Zeus created the cloud nymph Nephele (Νεφέλη)in Hera's image. Ixion made love to her and fathered the Kentaurs (or just one, Kentaurus, who became the father of the Centaur race). Needless to say, Ixion failed miserably. He was expelled from Olympus and blasted with a thunderbolt. Zeus then ordered Hermes to bind Ixion to a winged fiery wheel that was always spinning. Therefore, Ixion is bound to a burning solar wheel for all eternity, at first spinning across the heavens, then into Tartaros. The Corona Australis is this very wheel, with Ixion tied to it. Apollodorus, in his 'Bibliotheca': 

"Ixion fell in love with Hera and tried to rape her, and when Hera told Zeus about it, Zeus wanted to determine if her report was really true. So he fashioned a Cloud (Nephele) to look like Hera, and laid it by Ixion's side. When Ixion bragged that he had slept with Hera, Zeus punished him by tying him to a wheel, on which he was turned by winds up in the air. The Cloud (Nephele) bore Kentauros (Centaurus) from Ixion’s seed." [E.1.20]

The Danaides

It is said that these fifty daughters of Danaus (or just forty-nine, or forty-eight, or forty-seven of them) murdered their husbands and were punished in Tartarus by being forced to carry water in a jug to fill a bath which would thereby wash off their sins, but the jugs were actually sieves so the water always leaked out. Ovid in his 'Metamorphoses' poetically describes their fate:

"The Belides their leaky vessels still

Are ever filling, and yet never fill:

Doom'd to this punishment for blood they shed,

For bridegrooms slaughter'd in the bridal bed."

King Salmoneus

This king may have banked himself a place in Tartaros by trying to pass himself off as Zeus, causing the real Zeus to smite him with a thunderbolt. He impersonated the divinity by driving around in a chariot dragging bronze kettles to make thunder, and casting torches in the air for lightning. Salmoneus was the great-grandson of Deukalion, survivor of the Great Deluge. Virgil, in his 'Aeneid':

"Salmoneus, suff'ring cruel pains, I found, For emulating Jove; the rattling sound Of mimic thunder, and the glitt'ring blaze Of pointed lightnings, and their forky rays. Thro' Elis and the Grecian towns he flew; Th' audacious wretch four fiery coursers drew: He wav'd a torch aloft, and, madly vain, Sought godlike worship from a servile train. Ambitious fool! with horny hoofs to pass O'er hollow arches of resounding brass, To rival thunder in its rapid course, And imitate inimitable force! But he, the King of Heav'n, obscure on high, Bar'd his red arm, and, launching from the sky His writhen bolt, not shaking empty smoke, Down to the deep abyss the flaming felon strook." [6..585]

• Saturday, February 9, 2019
  ancient Hellenic culture Centaurs Centaurus Hómēros Ixion Mythology 101 Odysseia Ovid Plato Sísyphos Tántalos Tartaros Virgil Zeus

The flight of Íkaros

"...but most of all I love Icarus, who knew the wax would melt but still flew towards the sun."

 -- 'Ik hou van Icarus' - Tjitske Jansen (translated from Dutch)

One of my all-time favorite Hellenic myths is about Íkaros; Daidalos' son who escaped the labyrinth on the island of Krete with wings made of feathers and wax. He was warned not to fly too high because the sun would melt the wax, or too low because wet feathers wouldn't carry him, yet Íkaros got too caught up with the marvel of flying, and did fly too high or too low. As a result, he drowned somewhere between the Island and the main land.

Daidalos (Δαίδαλος) was an inventor, a craftsman, who had murdered a gifted student of his--his nephew--in a fit of jealousy. This caused him to flee his home town (most often referred to as Athens, although there are some timeline problems if this was the case) and find refuge on Krete. King Minos saw in Daidalos a gifted man, and asked him to draw and constructed the labyrinth of the Minotaur, son of King Minos. Because he knew the secrets of the labyrinth, and the deformations of the Minotaur, he was never permitted to leave the Island.

As often, many details of this myth come from the Roman poet Ovid. In earlier versions of the tale, the labyrinth is an actual labyrinth: it has one pathway that leads inexorably from the entrance to the goal, albeit by the most complex and winding of routes. In Ovid's version--and other like him--the labyrinth is not a labyrinth at all, but a maze: a design with choices in pathways, aimed to confuse the seeker. In fact, Ovid's version of the 'labyrinth' is so complex that Daidalos himself almost gets lost in it:

"Great Daedalus of Athens was the man

That made the draught, and form'd the wondrous plan;

Where rooms within themselves encircled lye,

With various windings, to deceive the eye.

As soft Maeander's wanton current plays,

When thro' the Phrygian fields it loosely strays;

Backward and forward rouls the dimpl'd tide,

Seeming, at once, two different ways to glide:

While circling streams their former banks survey,

And waters past succeeding waters see:

Now floating to the sea with downward course,

Now pointing upward to its ancient source,

Such was the work, so intricate the place,

That scarce the workman all its turns cou'd trace;

And Daedalus was puzzled how to find

The secret ways of what himself design'd."

(The Labyrinth)

It takes many years for Daidalos to get restless on the Island, but when he does, he goes to King Minos and asks to be set free. Minos refuses him every time, and eventually, Daidalos is forced to think of another plan. Being a master craftsman, he constructs wings of feathers, wax, and string, and creates one for his young son, Íkaros (Ἴκαρος) as well. Apollodorus describes the tale in a very compact manner in his Epitome:

"On being apprized of the flight of Theseus and his company, Minos shut up the guilty Daedalus in the labyrinth, along with his son Icarus, who had been borne to Daedalus by Naucrate, a female slave of Minos. But Daedalus constructed wings for himself and his son, and enjoined his son, when he took to flight, neither to fly high, lest the glue should melt in the sun and the wings should drop off, nor to fly near the sea, lest the pinions should be detached by the damp.

 But the infatuated Icarus, disregarding his father's injunctions, soared ever higher, till, the glue melting, he fell into the sea called after him Icarian, and perished.15 But Daedalus made his way safely to Camicus in Sicily. [E.1.12 / E.1.13]

It's important to note that not all historians and writers in ancient Hellas quite agreed with the story of Íkaros and his wings. Pausanias mentions that it were not wings at all that carried Daidalos and Íkaros, but boats, crafted especially well by Daidalos:

"Here [at Thebes] is a sanctuary of Herakles. The image, of white marble, is called Promakhos (Champion), and the Thebans Xenokritos and Eubios were the artists. But the ancient wooden image is thought by the Thebans to be by Daidalos, and the same opinion occurred to me. It was dedicated, they say, by Daidalos himself, as a thank-offering for a benefit. For when he was fleeing from Krete in small vessels which he had made for himself and his son Ikaros, he devised for the ships sails, an invention as yet unknown to the men of those times, so as to take advantage of a favorable wind and outsail the oared fleet of Minos. Daidalos himself was saved, but the ship of Ikaros is said to have overturned, as he was a clumsy helmsman. The drowned man was carried ashore by the current to the island, then without a name, that lies off Samos. Herakles came across the body and recognized it, giving it burial where even to-day a small mound still stands to Ikaros on a promontory jutting out into the Aegean. After this Ikaros are named both the island and the sea around it." (Description of Greece 9.11.1.)

Daidalos makes it to the main land. The island Íkaros' body washed upon, was called 'Ikaria' (Ικαρία) from that point on. It still carries that name, and is located ten nautical miles (nineteen kilometer) southwest of Samos. Minos was of no mind to let Daidalos go, however, and so he went from court to court, knowing that a mind as sharp as Daidalos' would be noticed wherever he went. King Minos posed a riddle to every king, as described by Apollodorus:

"And Minos pursued Daedalus, and in every country that he searched he carried a spiral shell and promised to give a great reward to him who should pass a thread through the shell, believing that by that means he should discover Daedalus. And having come to Camicus in Sicily, to the court of Cocalus, with whom Daedalus was concealed, he showed the spiral shell. Cocalus took it, and promised to thread it, and gave it to Daedalus;

And Daedalus fastened a thread to an ant, and, having bored a hole in the spiral shell, allowed the ant to pass through it. But when Minos found the thread passed through the shell, he perceived that Daedalus was with Cocalus, and at once demanded his surrender. Cocalus promised to surrender him, and made an entertainment for Minos; but after his bath Minos was undone by the daughters of Cocalus; some say, however, that he died through being drenched with boiling water." [E.1.14 / E.1.15]

And this was the end of King Minos' hunt and his life. Depending on the source, it might have been Daidalos himself who poured boiling water over King Minos, leading to his death. What happens to Daidalos afterwards is unclear. I hope he found a place to remember his son, and build more of his wonderful inventions.

This myth encourages people to look at the consequences of their actions, even those--or especially those--with good intentions. Daidalos' genius cost him his son. On the other hand, whenever I read this myth, Íkaros reminds me that, although great risk comes with a leap of faith, it might just be worth it sometimes. Íkaros chose the dangerous path, and while it led to his death, it also led to one of the most beautiful moments of his life. I'm a cautious person, a tempered person, and remembering Íkaros is a great help in my life sometimes. It reminds me to hunt for happiness, even though the quest requires me to let go of the familiar. I live my life looking for small flights of Íkaros, and I wish the same for you.

• Tuesday, July 17, 2018
  Apollodorus Daidalos Íkaros Metamorphoses Minos Mythology 101 Ovid Pausanias