How Ugly Was Hephaestos Really
| Grazacham |
Posted: December 30, 2006 | 2:27 GMT
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I don't think there is any testimony that Hephaestus was actually ugly, of face, that is. Sure he was deformed, either congenitally, or as a result of being thrown out of heaven. What seems clear is that the goddesses, in particular, and women, in general, weren't attracted to him. Otherwise, he'd have had more children. Among his recorded children are the Cabiri, who may have been dwarfs. Is it possible the Greek gods were proto-eugenists? The Greeks certainly believed that guilt carried over the generations; it's a no-brainer that deformity and 'ugliness' were also reaped from the seed.
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| Kice Brown |
Posted: January 31, 2007 | 21:35 GMT
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In his book Comparative Mythology, a treatise on Indo-European mythologies, Jaan Puhvel mentions something that's been "jabbing" at my mind ever since this thread began: | QUOTE | | Ares and Hephaistos are strictly minor Olympians, with obscure, presumably substratal names. They were sons of Zeus and Hera, in itself a sign of triteness (Zeus usually picked extracurricular mates for more important sirings). ... Ares as war-god has on the whole little "personality" apart from alleged savagery, while Hephaistos is the typical smith-god found in many mythologies, congenitally deformed yet skilled and mostly good-natured, operating in a subterranean or submarine forge and related to such submythological craftsmen as the Kabeiroi of Samothrace and the Telkhines of Rhodes. Both seem to be headquartered to the northeast of Greece proper, Ares in Thrace and Hephaistos on the northern Aegean island of Lemnos (where a pre-Greek population lingered in classical times). |
The names of both Hephaistos and Ares (the latter both as Ares and as Enyalios) are attested from Mykenaian-era inscriptions.
The problem is that although I obviously recalled the ubiquity of deformity as an aspect of the smith deity -- enough so to search until I found Puhvel's reference above, I don't recall any comprehensive review of the issue, with perhaps some understanding of why smith gods should as a rule be portrayed as deformed, or dwarf/gnome-like.
Sometimes I wonder if it's associated with the primitive (albeit sacred) technology of mining and smelting the ore, specifically with the biophysical dangers that must have been associated with such magical accomplishments. Perhaps an analogous situation would be the mercury poisoning involved in the 19th century processing of the leather for men's hats -- poisoning that resulted in the type-specimen portrayed by Alice's "Mad Hatter".
Well, I'll keep looking ...
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| Kice Brown |
Posted: February 2, 2007 | 16:07 GMT
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Thanks Grazacham; that website on "Lame Dazbog" was fascinating.
I decided I needed to review a summary of information on Hephaistos, and so turned to the section (2.11) on Hephaistos in Walter Burkert's Greek Religion (1977 German; 1985 English): | QUOTE | Hephaistos is obviously non-Greek, as is his name. {{footnote}}: The Dorian and Aeolian form of the name is (H)aphaistos. The name a-pa-i-ti-jo in Knossos can be read as Hephaistos.}} His city, Hephaistias, was the capital of the island of Lemnos, where an independent, non-Greek population held out down to the sixth century; the Greeks called them Tyrsenoi, thus identifying them by name with the Italian Etruscans. A late source tells us of a great purification festival on the island of Lemnos which culminated in the kindling of new fire and its distribution to the craftsmen; according to the Iliad, the Sinties on Lemnos took care of Hephaistos when he fell from heaven. The Kabeiroi, mysterious blacksmith gods, are sons or grandsons of the Lemnian Hephaistos.
The special importance of the smith's craft in the Bronze and early Iron Ages led to its close involvement with political and religious organisations. Traces of a smith kingship can be discerned in late Hittite tradition. The direct association of smith workshops and sanctuary is impressively attested in Kition on the copper island of Cyprus in the twelfth century; the god and the goddess on the copper ingot were also worshipped there. {{footnote}}: In Pylos as well there are Smiths of the Potnia (PY Jn 431)...}} Among the Phrygians, too, the Great Goddess seems to have been associated with smith workshops. How the Tyrsenian people and language can be connected with this other evidence remains unclear; the Lemnian inscriptions have not been interpreted with any certainty.
The Greek cities relegated craftsmanship to a secondary place in favour of warrior arete. Only in Athens does Hephaistos have a special importance in mythology and cult: as a result of his curious encounter with Athena, he becomes de facto father of the first king Erichthonios, and thereby ancestor of the Athenians; accordingly, at the Apatouria, the festival of the Athenian phratriai, he receives a sacrifice. A smith festival Chalkeia, which involves Athena as well, has a place in the calendar of festivals. A monumental temple was accorded to Hephaistos, along with Athena, though only after 450; it stands, almost completely preserved, on the hill above the Agora facing Athena's Acropolis.
In epic Hephaistos is distinguished from the other Olympian gods by reason of his intimate association with his element, fire; his name, in one instance, stands for fire itself. {{Kice footnote}}: Iliad 2:421-426 (Lattimore translation)-- Now when all had made prayer and flung down the scattering barley, first they drew back the victim's head, cut his throat and skinned him, and cut away the meat from the thighs and wrapped them in fat, making a double fold, and laid shreds of flesh above them. Placing these on sticks cleft and peeled they burned them, and spitted the vitals and held them over the flame of Hephaistos. Thus, Hephaistos is not just any fire here, but specifically sacrificial fire.}} When the river god Skamandros unleashes his torrents in an attempt to drown Achilleus, Hera calls on Hephaistos to tame the river with his fierce, blazing flames. {{Kice footnote}}: O'Brien, in her Transformation of Hera, discusses this battle in some detail.}} An epiphany of Hephaistos, and consequently a centre of his cult, was the earth gas fire which still exists near Olympos on the southern coast of Asia Minor; a similar earth fire may perhaps have existed on the island of Lemnos. The association of Hephaistos with volcanoes is secondary -- the naming of the Lipari Islands as Hephaestides insulae, and the location of his smithy beneath Mount Etna.
Hephaistos the god has crippled feet, making him an outsider among the perfect Olympians; for this there are realistic and mythological explanations; special powers are marked by a special sign. Epic narrative gives a burlesque account: Hera bore Hephaistos unsired, but the result was disappointing, and so she hurled him down from heaven in a rage. The sequel, which tells how Hephaistos took his revenge by ensnaring his mother in an artfully constructed throne and how it eventually took Dionysos to bring him back, drunk, to Olympos to release her, became a favourite subject for Dionysian vase paintings; this story was cast in literary form by Alkaios, perhaps drawing on Lemnian tradition.
The Iliad makes Hephaistos the occasion and object of Homeric laughter when he assumes the role of the beautiful youth Ganymedes and hobbles and wheezes around, pouring out wine to the gods; but the hilarity which this provokes is his wished-for success -- he alone has the wit and self-distance to defuse a tense situation in this way. {{Kice footnote}}: 'Twas nektar, not wine.}} The other outburst of Homeric laughter in the Odyssey is also at his expense and yet once again his triumph when he has caught his unfaithful wife Aphrodite with Ares in his artful net.
In the Iliad it is Charis, Grace, who is Hephaistos' wife. His smithy, set up in a brazen house on Olympos, is described in the scene in which Thetis comes to ask for new weapons for Achilleus. Hephaistos himself is working at his bellows and anvil, black with soot and covered with sweat, but glorious works of art come from his hands: tripods on wheels which roll about automatically and even robot maidens made of gold who support their master. Even more astonishing is the shield which he makes: an image of the entire world of man, framed by the heavenly stars. The craftsman god becomes the image of the all-fashioning creator; perhaps the Iliad poet was also thinking of himself in this image. |
I tend to think of ancient smithcraft (widely, including functions from mining or finding the ores, through their smelting into pure and composite metal(s) and their shaping into specific forms, to the articulation of these distinct forms into a constructed implement) as shamanic in origin -- not only as a whole but also individually. An apprentice smith would not only been tutored in the skills of the craft but also would have undergone shamanesque rituals of passage, some of which might well have involved self-sacrifice to a degree (e.g. resulting often in lameness or crippling of the feet -- a payment of one's agility afoot for perfecting one's "agility" with the hands: one's "ability" to craft perfection).
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| Kice Brown |
Posted: February 4, 2007 | 0:13 GMT
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I began to look at other peoples' smith gods/heroes by checking some entries in James MacKillop's Dictionary of Celtic Mythology, published by Oxford Univ Press. One perspective that he brought to my attention was the difference between the concept of smith and of craftsman. This is also something to pursue in the Greek mythos, for instance the differentiation between Hephaistos and Daidalos (irrespective of one being a god and the other a hero). Also Athena is a deity of craftspersons, and she too (of course) has an interesting association both in cult and myth with Hephaistos.
Also, above Burkert emphasizes the buffoonery of Hephaistos serving nektar at the Olympian assembly, (rightly I believe) assuming Hephaistos to have taken up this task that otherwise is that of Ganymedes or Hebe in order to defuse the tense antagonism between Zeus and Hera, seemingly about to erupt into full battle. Yet one of MacKillop's entries, in discussing a Celtic smith deity whose hospitality includes the serving of a nektar-like drink (i.e. one conferring something like immortality), relates this to Hephaistos' serving nektar to the gods.
None of these smith figures seems to be lame, and only one is sometimes identified as a dwarf. More common, in fact, is an association of the smith with healing arts; this association is likely a relict of the shamanism from which both the smith and the healer/"medicine man" evolved.
So here are a set of entries from the Dictionary of Celtic Mythology: | QUOTE | craftsman. In the Celtic countries the concept of craftsman [Ir. ceardai, saor; W crefftwr] would include artisan, carpenter, potter, or wright, but does not always include smith [Ir. gabha; W gof]. The craftsman or carpenter of the Tuatha Dé Danann in Ireland is Luchta, who frequently works with Goibniu, a weaponmaker, wright, or smith, and Credne, a metalsmith. Goibniu was known as Gobbán Saor [Ir., Gobbán the wright or craftsman] in folk-tales. Partholón in the Lebor Gabála [Book of Invasions], is the chief of every craft. The epithet of Lug Lámfhota is Samildánach [possessor of many talents or crafts]. Llassar Llaes Gyfnewid, the possessor of the cauldron of regeneration in Manawydan, the third branch of the Mabinogi, was known for his craftsmanship.
smith, smiths [OE smith] Metalworkers were held in high esteem in Celtic countries, often thought to possess healing powers. In the early Scottish Highlands a smith might hold his hammer over the sick or infirm to frighten away illness. Archaeological evidence points to the existence of the cult of the smith-god in Roman Britain, figures with distinctive hammer and tongs, perhaps borrowed from the Latin divinity Vulcan. Smithcraft was also often related to an interest in alchemy as well as to initiations into men's societies. Goibniu was the smith-god of the Tuatha Dé Danann. OIr. gobae; ModIr. gabha; ScG gobha; Manx gaaue; W gof; Corn. gof; Bret. gov.
Goibniu, Goibhniu, Goibne, Guibne, Goibnenn, Gaibnenn, Gobnenn, Gobniu [OIr. gobae smith]. Smith of the Tuatha Dé Danann and one of the three gods of craft, na trí dé dána, along with Credne and Luchta. Goibniu is seen most vividly in Cath Maige Tuired [The (Second) Battle of Mag Tuired], where he is a tireless armourer, providing Lug Lámfhota with the spear that penetrates Balor's eye. His keen tips are always lethal. . . . Genealogies disagree about Goibniu's lineage. He may be a grandson of the war-god Néit, as is Balor, and one of the four sons of Esarg, along with Credne, Luchta, and Dian Cécht, the healing god. In an alternate text he is the brother of the Dagda, Nuada Airgetlám, Credne and Luchta, with whom he helps to conquer Ireland for the Tuatha Dé Danann. . . .
Along with his smithing, Goibniu was often seen as a healer; his name is invoked on an Old Irish charm to aid removal of a thorn. More significantly he is host of an otherworldly feast, Fled Goibnenn, where guests imbibed great quantities of an intoxicating drink now identified with ale. Instead of getting drunk, those attending would be protected from old age and decay. Commentators see in this yet another link with Hephaistos, the Greek smith-god, who provides the other gods drink in the Iliad. Goibniu's forge, Cerdchae Ghaibhnenn was usually thought to lie east of Mullaghmast hill in Glenn Treithim along the Kildare-Wicklow border. The once abundant copper ore in this area allowed early metalsmiths to make shields and spear-points. Much of Goibniu's characterisation survives in the folk figure Gobbán Saor, . . . His Welsh counterparts are Gofannon and Glwyddyn Saer.
Gofannon, Govannon [W gof, gofan, smith]. Welsh divine smith, one of the children of Don and a British counterpart to the Irish Goibniu; he is best remembered as the uncle who kills his nephew Dylan. Culhwch's third task was to get Gofannon to sharpen the plough of Amaethon. In some texts he is described as a dwarf. |
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| Grazacham |
Posted: February 4, 2007 | 2:46 GMT
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The Celtic comparisons are interesting in another way. Dian Cécht, the "leech" -- as he is sometimes decorously called, meaning somewhat paradoxically that he was a doctor (sounds like 'Deadwood'-speak) -- killed his son, Miach for getting above himself. Goibniu, the smith god, killed Rúadan, as he might have been expected to dispatch a son. Hephaestus' fall from grace, out of heaven that is, is exactly the kind of indignity a knowledge god should have inflicted on his son. Recall how Daedalus is resposible for Icarus' fall, to put a construction on the event. So Hephaestus is seemingly living out the experience of father and son. That he has a problem with his feet tallies with other fated souls like Oedipus ("swollen-foot") and Achilleus with his heel, that is, souls who fall mortally into this world. Hephastus is vunerable and should have died for it, but the Greek gods were not allowed to die so he was made fun of instead. Funnily enough, Hephaestus' most elemental expression, when he turned back the River Scamandros as fire, resulting in the Theomachia, the battle of the gods, elicits laughter from Zeus -- surely the most superior contempt Hormer conferred on the king of the gods, showing how removed divinty can be from the living and dying that was the subject of Homer's song.
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| Kice Brown |
Posted: February 4, 2007 | 5:55 GMT
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O'Brien, in her Transformation of Hera, argues that Hephaistos replaced Typhon|Typhoeus in the Iliad's theomachia. I start quoting somewhat before... | QUOTE | Whereas Hera's fertile hand smote the earth to produce the monstrous Typhon in the Hymn to Apollon (himase, 340; cf. 333), the only deity to smite in the Iliad is Zeus (himasso 15.17). These verses, the only direct reference to Typhon or Typhoeus in the Iliad, indicate that the monster and his Ariman couch (presumably a wedding bed shared with Ekhidna) were already fixtures of myth: the general clause in the first verse and the word phasi 'they say' in the second are the markers. That same usage of phasi marks Hesiod's account of Typhon joined in love with Ekhidna among the Arimoi (Theogony 304-6). And as Hesiod fills out the story, Hera nurses two of the offspring born in that Ariman cave, the Hydra and the Nemean lion. Apparently, then, both Homer and Hesiod were drawing on a traditional account in which Typhon, Ekhidna, and Hera appeared among the Arimoi.
A scholiast on the Iliad supports this conclusion by linking Hera to the Arimoi, or at least Mt. Arimon, through the following story. Once, in a rage against Zeus, Hera approached Kronos for help. He obliged by giving her two eggs smeared with his semen and telling her to bury them underground (kata ges). The daimon born from them would dethrone Zeus. After she buried them under Mt. Arimon, Typhon came forth. What seems to be reconstructed here is another account of Hera, in league with Kronos, giving birth to and/or nursing chthonic, Ariman monsters to rival Zeus -- the same themes we saw in the Hymn to Apollon.
The only other Iliadic reference to a smiting Zeus occurs after the Seduction of Zeus scene, when he awakens to realize that Hera has duped him: . . . Here Zeus threatens to smite Hera as he regularly smites Typhon (himasso 15.17, himassei 2.281). So, the only two characters whom Iliadic Zeus smites or threatens to smite are Typhon and his own wife. A strange way to treat one's wife, one might say, but a lashing with thunderbolts is a perfect punishment for a sky god to inflict on an earth goddess plotting insurrection. And it is the Olympian's perfect revenge for the blasts (thuellai) that she and her winds send against his son Herakles (15.26-28). Hence this description of Hera's previous punishment -- hung up on high amid the clouds, anvils suspended from her feet -- appears to have come from an earlier battle-of-gods tradition in which Hera received the punishment of a cosmic slave (bound and fixed in midair) for the rebellion that mother earth and son launched against father sky and son. We have hints of how the earth goddess and earthling son are punished in different ways by the triumphant sky god: one hung aloft in golden chains, the other eventually left to rumble forever underground. Zeus' thunderbolt proves effective against the mother's blasts and the son's fire. (The Iliad, of course, provides a very different context for the myth.)
These vestiges of an earth goddess and son are confirmed by the similar fate of another would-be champion of Hera in Book 1. Here in Book 15, no god dared help her lest Zeus fling him from the threshold and the victim hit the earth "with little breath". In Book 1's famous tale, Hephaistos tells how Zeus once evicted him from the threshold of Olympos when he tried to help Hera: "Once before when I tried to defend you [Hera], [Zeus] caught me by the foot and flung me from the awesome threshold. I fell all day long! Just as the sun dropped, so did I, onto Lemnos -- with little breath left in me." These two pericopes clearly describe the same eviction, as Cedric Whitman showed years ago.
Taken together, Zeus' smiting of Typhon and the two evictions are related:. . . The three passages suggest a common story in which Hera had been defended against Zeus' wrath not by Hephaistos, as the Iliad has it, but by Typhon, one firegod son replacing another. {{footnote: That Hera was a traditional mother of firegods who rebelled against Zeus is illustrated by a myth that makes Prometheus her son by the giant Eurymedon (T Scholion on Il. 14.296).}} Tradition gave Hera two parthenogenetic sons, each of whom was a firegod -- Typhon and Hephaistos. Homer replaces the monstrous Typhon with the civilized Hephaistos.
Such an alliance between Hera and Typhon must have been a source for the Battle of the Gods, in which, as already noted, Hera and Hephaistos are engaged in a typhonic struggle, though the rival this time is not Zeus but a river god (Il. 21.331-41). When one recalls that Typhon is the sender of evil whirlwinds, winds that wreak havoc and even scatter rivers of fire (called in Theogony 870-80 aellai, a variant of thuellai), the typhonic nature of the theomachy of Iliad 21 becomes even more apparent. Hera not only urges Hephaistos to display a mighty fire in his battle against the river Xanthos but promises to raise her own firestorm: "I'll send an evil flame and stir up from the sea a fierce blast of Zephyros and white-clouded Notos to burn the Trojan corpses and their battlegear. Meanwhile burn up the trees along Xanthos' banks. Plunge him into fire. Don't let him divert you with honeyed words or threats. Cease not your rage until I cry out with a loud voice." Scorching firestorms, ill winds, and loud cries are characteristic of the monster Typhon (Theogony 869-80) not the normally gentle Hephaistos. And the description leaves no doubt that the son's assault is an instrument of the mother's rage, . . . here point to Hera's earlier existence as a sort of Greek Tiamat allied with a monster in a primal battle of elements. |
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| Kice Brown |
Posted: February 4, 2007 | 17:30 GMT
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I forgot to note that the Skamandros and the Xanthos are alternate names for the same river flowing near Troy (coming from Mt. Ida IIRC).
In an introduction to the Celtic material I quoted above, I mentioned the division between smith and craftsman, and suggested that in Greek mythology that division also occurred, one example being between Hephaistos and Daidalos. They come together, briefly, in a section of the Iliad's description of the shield of Achilleus (18.478-607) that Hephaistos forges at Thetis' request. In his Companion to the Iliad, Malcolm Willcock writes | QUOTE | | The Shield of Achilleus is the most famous excursus in the Iliad . . . It is obviously an original composition by Homer. By describing a work of art, he creates a world; and it is his own world, the world of the similes, the world of the eighth century B.C., not the Mycenaean Age. It is a world for the most part at peace, and the occupations portrayed on the Shield are of life in the city and life in the country -- satisfying and social life, enjoyed by those who take part or watch. Homer lived in the period of later geometric and early orientalizing art, the end of the eighth century B.C. Some shields and some silver and bronze bowls with ornamentation comparable to that described here are known from this period . . . Both shields and bowls are round, with pictorial designs appearing in concentric bands. There can be no doubt that this is the sort of thing Homer had in mind, although his description of the scenes on the Shield far surpasses anything those human artists could achieve. The technique of metal inlay, however, which Hephaistos uses, adding color to the pictures on the Shield, is not contemporary with Homer but must go back to the Mycenaean Age; it should be compared with such things as the inlaid daggers found in the shaft graves. |
By the way, Willcock takes note of the lines just preceding the description of the shield (lines 474-477) -- in Lattimore's translation (which Willcock cites throughout): He cast on the fire bronze which is weariless, and tin with it and valuable gold, and silver, and thereafter set forth upon its standard the great anvil, and gripped in one hand the ponderous hammer, while in the other he grasped the pincers. Willcock:
| QUOTE | | bronze, tin, gold, and silver. D.H. Gray has explained (Journal of Hellenic Studies 74 [1954]: 12-13) that the procedure followed by Hephaistos here is suitable only for ironworking. Other metals are melted for pouring into molds and for making alloys, but they are hammered cold and then by tapping with light tools for further shaping. "Hard and repeated hammering of red-hot metal (implied by the anvil, the ponderous hammer and the pincers) is the peculiar characteristic of iron working." The poet has made a technical mistake. |
The connection between Hephaistos and Daidalos occurs late in the description of the Shield's designs. Willcock writes:
| QUOTE | The Dance (Lines 590-605) As if there were not enough of interest in the previous scenes, this last one, of dancing, adds a great deal more. In lines 590-92 the dance area portrayed on the Shield is said to be like one built by Daidalos, the famous craftsman, for princess Ariadne, daughter of Kin Minos, in Krete. Kretan connections with dancing have been alluded in the incident between Aineias and Meriones at 16.617. In lines 599-602 Homer describes the dance itself. It seems to be like a country dance, in two parts: first the dancers move round in circles (the poet shows this in the simile of a potter's wheel); then they form lines which run up to and through each other. |
Here are the lines 590-605 from Lattimore's translation: | QUOTE | And the renowned smith of the strong arms made elaborate on it a dancing floor, like that which once in the wide spaces of Knossos Daidalos built for Ariadne of the lovely tresses. And there were young men on it and young girls, sought for their beauty with gifts of oxen, dancing, and holding hands at the wrist. These wore, the maidens long light robes, but the men wore tunics of finespun work and shining softly, touched with olive oil. And the girls wore fair garlands on their heads, while the young men carried golden knives that hung from sword-belts of silver. At whiles on their understanding feet they would run very lightly, as when a potter crouching makes trial of his wheel, holding it close in his hands, to see if it will run smooth. At another time they would form rows, and run, rows crossing each other. And round the lovely chorus of dancers stood a great multitude happily watching, while among the dancers two acrobats led the measures of song and dance revolving among them. |
My discussion has evolved. It began with my grabbing Kerényi's Dionysos from its shelf nearby, intending to post passages from his discussion of Daidalos. But while leafing through the volume on my way to these passages I came upon the following:
| QUOTE | On a tablet found in Knossos a great female figure of the Dionysian cycle appears with an inscription of few words including no name. And yet she was the first divine personage from Greek mythology to be immediately recognized in Crete. On the small clay tablet was written: pa-si-te-o-i / me-ri da-pu-ri-to-jo / po-ti-ni-ja me-ri (Knossos Gg 702.2) There is no doubt about the Greek transliteration; therefore the translation is certain. The first word of the second line, it is true, discloses phonetic peculiarities deviating from later Greek, but they do not change the meaning: πασι θεοις μελι . . . λαβυρινθοιο ποτνιαι μελι . . . To all the gods honey . . . To the mistress of the labyrinth honey . . . After both lines the amount of honey is indicated with a picture of a vessel. The quantity is the same for "all the gods" as for the "mistress of the labyrinth." She must have been a Great Goddess. |
This is certainly not the first time I've taken not of these lines. In fact I have them preserved on my "symbol" WORD® document that I use for "importing" Greek letters and other symbols into Mythography's text entry boxes. Yet this is the first time that I made a connection between the honey and Ariadne's dance floor; for the words evoked memories from my early biological education (specifically my Invertebrate Zoology class -- about 1963 -- at Occidental College in LA with professor P. Wells, whose research was the dance language of the honey bee). The dance language of the honey bee, first described by Karl von Frisch, is still controversial (see 'The Elusive Honey Bee Dance "Language" Hypothesis.' 2002. Journal of Insect Behavior 15:859-878, by Adrian Wenner, one of the colleagues of my professor, Dr. Wells), specifically with regard to whether it actually is a language that a scout worker bee uses to direct other bees to a nectar source. The hypothesis is that a reversing circle or round dance is used for sources relatively close to the hive and for sources further away what's variously described as a figure-8 dance or a circle dance bisected by a line dance (at a specific angle to line of polarization of the sunlight) during which the bee waggles her abdomen producing a sound the frequency of which provides distance information. As Wenner notes, experimental verification of the information content of these bee dances is ambiguous. The problem is generally not that the scientists can identify the floral source of the nectar the worker is bringing back to the hive, but it remains questionable whether the other bees "understand" the dance and thus go straight to that floral source. BUT, that controversy is not important for us. WHAT IS IMPORTANT is that through the centuries during which honey mead was a sacred, intoxicating drink for the Cretans -- before its replacement with wine -- those dedicated to the husbandry of honey (i.e. "beekeepers") would quite likely have observed the "labyrinthine" dance of the bees. Thus the insight evoked by re-seeing the words "λαβυρινθοιο ποτνιαι μελι" was that the dance performed on the "Ariadne's dance floor" mimicked the dances of the honeybees. My subsequent examination (through Willcock and Lattimore's translation) of the dance described by Homer only strengthened my conviction that this was its major source.
Well, I began this posting as I mentioned with the intent of including passages from Kerényi's discussion of Daidalos. Perhaps it's not so inappropriate that this discussion has meandered, n'est-ce pas? I will have to post the passages on Daidalos in a subsequent reply.
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| Kice Brown |
Posted: February 4, 2007 | 21:07 GMT
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It turns out that if I start the passages from Kerényi's Dionysos a little before where I had planned to begin, he adds some credence to my hypothesis of Cretan dances emulating those performed by bees. | QUOTE | The honey offering given to the "mistress of the labyrinth" carries the style of a much earlier period: that stage in which Minoan culture was still in contact with an "age of honey." In the history of civilization, honey offerings and dances go hand in hand as forms of myth and cult, even when they survive in a mature high culture. This culture preserved them from its own beginnings. The intervals in the Knossion, which, if it was a dance figure, must originally have been rounded, were the paths of the dancers who honored the "mistress of the labyrinth" with their movements. The dancing ground, on which the figure of the dance was drawn, represented the great realm of the mistress.
For the dancing ground Homer is our source, but I believe we have another in the small clay tablet from Knossos. In the Iliad (XVIII 590-93), the dancing ground that Hephaistos "with rich and varied art" (poikille) incised on Achilleus' shield is compared with the one Daidalos built at Knossos for Ariadne. Ariadne is described as a girl "with beautiful braids of hair," an ornamental epithet that Homer confers more often on goddesses than on common girls. According to the Odyssey (XI 321-22), Ariadne was the daughter of the "evil-plotting Minos" -- an epithet that presupposes the labyrinth as a place of death. . . . Even in this story, which has become so human, Ariadne discloses a close relationship, such as only the Minoan "mistress of the labyrinth" could have had, to both aspects of the labyrinth: the home of the Minotaur and the scene of the winding and unwinding dance. In the legend the Great Goddess has become a king's daughter, but there can be no doubt as to her identity. In the Greek period of the island she bore a name -- although, as we shall soon see, she also had others -- that is not a name at all but only an epithet and an indication of her nature. "Ariadne" is a Cretan-Greek form for "Arihagne," the "utterly pure," from the adjective adnon for hagnon. |
One wonders at how similar the "winding and unwinding" dance of the human dancers was to the "reversing circle" dance of the honeybees.
Kerényi continues... | QUOTE | Still another mythical name, "Daidalos" -- which likewise was not originally a proper name -- is connected with the two aspects of the labyrinth: prison and dance ground. According to Homer, Daidalos built the dance floor for Ariadne with consummate skill (ekese). The word daidallein, synonymous with poikillein, might have been used for this skillful building -- a tautology if the master's name was given. For the entire Greek tradition Daidalos was the builder of the Minotaur's house, in which Daidalos himself was later confined and from which he escaped through his invention of flying. According to a tale that Sophokles used in a tragedy, Daidalos solved a difficult problem connected with the spiral: he drew a thread through the convolutions of a snail shell. This he did by fastening the thread to an ant which proceeded to crawl through the shell. This story, the style of which shows it to be one of a number of picaresque tales older than Homer, is based on the original form of the labyrinth. For Homer there were many daidala, even apart from Daidalos. Every skillfully performed piece of workmanship was a daidalon. This adjective, applied to objects made with skill, preceded the other forms of the word. The masculine and feminine, daidalos and daidale, are derived from it, since the word connotes a characteristic of a thing, or rather of many things, of all daidala. "Daidalos" and "Daidale," as names respectively of a mythical master and a goddess, were not early divine names. They were products of a living mythology, but not of the earliest Mediterranean mythology or that which the Greeks had brought with them to Greece.
There was a community whose members called themselves "Daidalidai," "descendants of Daidalos," and they probably observed a cult of the hero Daidalos. Yet it does not seem likely that Knossos, at the time of the stone tablet showing a derivative of the word but not necessarily of the name, had a shrine of Daidalos. The tablet is a register of oil deliveries; on it is written da-da-re-jo-de. Two transliterations are possible: Daidaleionde and Daidaleonde. The first would presuppose a kind of cult site devoted to Daidalos, whereas the second does not require this unlikely assumption. "Into the Daidaleon" as the designation of a place need not derive from the proper name "Daidalos," but could come from the simple adjective daidalon. "Daidaleon" might also signify an artificially or artistically constructed place, an edifice that was only later attributed to the Athenian architect. It was either the house of the Minotaur or a dance ground. It is doubtful that anyone ever saw a prisonlike building attributed to Daidalos, but it is not impossible. It is more likely that the ruins of the palace of Knossos or one of the numerous Cretan caves was interpreted -- as has been done by certain modern observers -- as the labyrinth of the Theseus legend. The only alternative would be a dance ground, a place for cult dances erected on a solid foundation, to which the contributions of oil were delivered. |
Thus the name "Daidalos" for a skilled craftsman evolved from the word (daidalon) describing an object skillfully crafted
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| Kice Brown |
Posted: February 7, 2007 | 0:23 GMT
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We first meet the smith "Wayland" or "Volund" (the latter name Old Norse) in an Anglo-Saxon poem, Deor's Lament, which is cited by Lee M. Hollander in his The Poetic Edda, "translated with an introduction and explanatory notes by Lee M. Hollander." The citation occurs in his short introduction to Volundarkviða, "the Lay of Volund." Holland notes that Deor's Lament "is preserved in a manuscript of the eleventh century, but is manifestly much older." He presents the following lines from the poem's beginning: Wayland learned bitterly banishment's way, earl right resolute; ills endured; had for comrades Care and Longing, winter-cold wanderings; woe oft suffered when Nidhad forged the fetters on him, bending bonds on a better man. That he surmounted: so this may I! Beaduhild mourned her brothers' death, less sore in soul than herself dismayed when her plight was plainly placed before her-- birth of a bairn. No brave resolve might she ever make, what the end should be. That she surmounted: so this may I!
Also earlier than the edda, is a scene of the death of Beaduhild's brothers on the Franks Casket, "generally referred to the seventh century." "The brief glimpses of nature vouchsafed us in the poem leave little doubt that the poem originated in Norway. Both metre -- a free fornyrðislag -- and treatment place it among the earliest in The Edda; that is, perhaps, the ninth century. And this may account also in some degree for the sad condition of the text. It is preserved only in the Codex Regius."
I thought I'd begin by quoting the prose introduction to the Volundarkviða, from Hollander's translation, and then discuss the included story rather than quote the poetic portion itself. In addition to making use of Hollander's notes I may at times refer (especially for his somewhat different transliterations of Old Norse names) to Cassell's Dictionary of North Myth & Legend by Andy Orchard. His entry on Völund is essentially drawn from the Völundarkvida.
| QUOTE | | There was a king in Sweden hight Níthoth. He had two sons and a daughter whose name was Bothvild. There were three brothers, sons of a Finnish king. Was one hight Slagfith, the second, Egil, and the third, Volund. They ran on snowshoes, hunting game. They came to the Wolfdales and made them a house there by a water called Wolf Lake. Early one morn they found by the shore three women who were spinning flax. By them lay their swanskins, for they were valkyries. They were the two daughters of King Hlothvér, Hlathguth the Swanwhite, and Hervor the Allwise; and the third was Olrún, the daughter of King Kíar of Valland. The brothers took them home with them. Egil took Olrún to wife; Slagfith Hlathguth; and Volund, Hervor. Thus dwelled they seven years. Then flew they away to be at battles, and did not return. Then went forth Egil on his snowshoes to search for Olrún, and Slagfith, to look for Swanwhite; but Volund stayed behind in the Wolfdales. He was the most skillful of men of whom olden tales tell. King Níthoth had him taken captive, as is told in this lay. |
Níthoth is "Grim Warrior" (O.E. Nidhad). Orchard's transliteration is Nídud.
Bothvild is "War-Maiden" (O.E. Beaduhild). Orchard: Bödvild.
Slagfith is "Finn-Smith". Orchard: Slagfid. Slagfith's wife, Hlathguth the Swanwhite, is in Orchard's transliteration: Hladgud Svanhvít. Hollander identifies Hlathguth as meaning "the Necklace-adorned Warrior-Maiden."
Volund (note for Orchard Völund) is, in OE Weland and in OHG Walant, Welant. Hollander notes "The name has not yet received a satisfactory explanation. It may be connected with Old Norse vél, 'craft.'" His wife, Hervor the Allwise, is according to Orchard: Hervör Alvitr. Orchard writes "The meaning of the second element of her name is the subject of some dispute: current suggestions include 'all-wise' or, on the pattern of Old English œlwiht, 'strange creature'." Hollander identifies Hervor as meaning "the Warder of the Host."
Olrún (Orchard: Ölrún) is "Ale Rune". Hollander suggests "the One Knowing Ale Runes." Hollander also notes "The motif of the swanskins is but faintly stressed here. By taking the skins away, the brothers obtain possession of the maidens; but their departure is due, here, not to their regaining the swanskins, as one might expect, but to the inborn longing to be valkyries again.
King Hlothvér (Orchard: Hlödver), Hollander identifies as "corresponding to the Frankish King, Chlodowech, as Kíar may correspond to King Kiarval [Cearbhall] of Valland (here meaning "Wales"); or possibly, it may be derived drom Cæsar." (Orchard: Kjár).
I'll continue with more later this evening.
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