Mythos: The Greek Myths Reimagined (Stephen Fry's Great Mythology, #1)

by Stephen Fry

Anagrammatically “Rhea” does indeed come out of “Hera”; at least so I hear, but we won’t chase that hare.

We shouldn’t forget that Gaia is a planet too: she is our home world. Latinized as Tellus or Terra Mater she is Saxonized for us as “Earth” (cognate with the Germanic goddess Erde, Erda, Joeth, or Urd

“We’re going to do something remarkable today, something that the world will shout about for eons. It will ring down the ages, it will be the—” “Hunting for bears, are we?”

“Suppose,” said Zeus, “suppose I were to start a new race.” “In the Pythian Games?” “No, not a running race. A race as in a species. A new order of beings. Like us in every particular, upright, on two legs—” “One head?” “One head. Two hands. Resembling us in every particular, and they would have—you’re the intellectual, Prometheus, what’s the name for that aspect of us that raises us above the animals?” “Our hands?” “No, the part that tells us that we exist, that makes us aware of ourselves?” “Consciousness.” “That’s the one. These creatures would have consciousness. And language. They wouldn’t be a threat to us, of course. They’d live down here on the land, use their wit to farm and feed and fend for themselves.” “So . . .” Prometheus frowned in concentration as he tried to form a coherent picture in his mind. “A race of beings like us?” “Exactly! But not as big as us. And they’d be my creation. Well, our creation.” “Our creation?” “You’re good with your hands. Another Hephaestus. My idea is that you would model these creatures out of . . . out of clay, for example. They should be shaped in our image, anatomically correct in every detail, but on a smaller scale. Then we could animate them, give them life, replicate them, and release them into nature to see what happens.” Prometheus pondered this idea. “Would we engage with them, speak to them, move about with them?” “That would be exactly the point. To have an intelligent—well, semi-intelligent—species to praise and worsh...

Prometheus could make out an answering voice, female, low and measured. Zeus had brought along Athena, his favorite child. “Your father the emperor god, the world knows,” Prometheus could hear him saying. “Zeus the all-powerful, yes. Zeus the all-conquering, certainly. Zeus the all-knowing, of course. Zeus the—” “Zeus the all-modest?” “—Zeus the creator, though. Doesn’t that have a ring?” “Quite a ring.”

It was Metis, always inside Zeus, who had sparked the thought in him that it should be Athena who brought these creatures to life. She would breathe into each one, literally inspiring them with some of her great qualities of wisdom, instinct, craft, and sense.

That is one theory as to the origin of the word anthropos, which does strictly mean “man.” It is unfortunate that many words for our species seem to refer only to the male. “Human,” for example, is cognate with homo, the Latin for “man.” Thus “humanity” rudely leaves out half the species. “Folk” and “people” aren’t so specific. It is worth bearing in mind, however, that “man” is actually connected to mens (mind) and manus (hand), and was in fact gender neutral until perhaps a thousand years ago.

Since each of the gods had conferred upon her a notable talent or accomplishment, she was to be called “All-Gifted,” which in Greek is PANDORA.

Now, you probably think I am going to say the container was a box, or perhaps a chest of some description, but in fact it was the kind of glazed and sealed earthenware jar that is known in Grecian lands as a pithos.

They were mutant descendants of the dark and evil children of both Nyx and Erebus. They were born of Apate, Deceit; Geras, Old Age; Oizys, Misery; Momos, Blame; Keres, Violent Death. They were the offshoots of Ate, Ruin; and Eris, Discord. These were their names: PONOS, Hardship; LIMOS, Starvation; ALGOS, Pain; DYSNOMIA, Anarchy; PSEUDEA, Lies; NEIKEA, Quarrels; AMPHILOGIAI, Disputes; MAKHAI, Wars; HYSMINAI, Battles; ANDROKTASIAI and PHONOI, Manslaughters and Murders. Illness, Violence, Deceit, Misery, and Want had arrived. They would never leave the earth. What Pandora did not know was that, when she shut the lid of the jar so hastily, she forever imprisoned inside one last daughter of Nyx. One last little creature was left behind to beat its wings hopelessly in the jar forever. Its name was ELPIS, Hope.

It is a subtler name than that, for pan-dora can mean “all-giving” as well as “all-given.”

It is said to have been Erasmus of all people, the great sixteenth-century scholar and Prince of Humanists, who misread Pandora’s pithos (jar) into pyxis (box).

Love, as the Greeks understood, is complicated.

The well-known aluminum statue by Alfred Gilbert that forms the focus of the Shaftesbury Memorial in Piccadilly Circus, London, is actually not of Eros but of Anteros, deliberately chosen to celebrate the selfless love that demands no return. This was considered an appropriate commemoration of the seventh Earl of Shaftesbury’s great philanthropic achievements in hastening the abolition of child labor, reforming lunacy laws, and so on.

The King James Bible renders the conclusion of the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians (written in Greek of course) as: “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” In modern translations “charity” is rendered simply as “love.”

It is easier to hide a hundred mountains from a jealous wife than one mistress.

If you visit the Acropolis in Athens today you can still see, just to the north of the Parthenon, the beautiful temple called the Erechtheum. Its famous porch of caryatid columns in the form of draped maidens is one of the great architectural treasures of the world. Shrines were erected not far away to poor Aglauros and Herse too, which is only fitting.

As for Pandrosos, the obedient sister who resisted looking into the basket, a temple was raised to her near that of Minerva, and a festival instituted in her honor called Pandrosia

The American classicist and teacher Edith Hamilton offered this as Phaeton’s epitaph: Here Phaeton lies who in the sun-god’s chariot fared. And though greatly he failed, more greatly he dared.

Zeus meant well. Those three words so often presaged disaster for some poor demigod, nymph, or mortal.

After a banquet in Dionysus’s honor Staphylus died of the first fatal hangover. As compensation, and in their honor, Dionysus named bunches of grapes staphylos, alcoholic liquid and drunkenness methe, and the grape itself botrys.

If you want to impress your friends, you can learn the following list of the male and female hounds as given by Ovid in his version of the myth. If nothing else they might serve as useful names for online passwords. Dogs: Melampus, Ichnobates, Pamphagos, Dorceus, Oribasos, Nebrophonos, Lailaps, Theron, Pterelas, Hylaeus, Ladon, Dromas, Tigris, Leucon, Asbolos, Lacon, Aello, Thoos, Harpalos, Melaneus, Labros, Arcas, Argiodus, Hylactor. Bitches: Agre, Nape, Poemenis, Harpyia, Canache, Sticte, Alce, Lycisce, Lachne, Melanchaetes, Therodamas, Oresitrophos.

“My name . . .” Thanatos paused for effect. “My name . . .” “I haven’t got all night.” “My name is . . .” “Have you even got a name?” “Thanatos.” “Oh, so you’re Death, are you? Hm.” Sisyphus seemed unimpressed. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Painters, poets, and philosophers have seen many things in the myth of Sisyphus. They have seen an image of the absurdity of human life, the futility of effort, the remorseless cruelty of fate, the unconquerable power of gravity. But they have seen too something of mankind’s courage, resilience, fortitude, endurance, and self-belief. They see something heroic in our refusal to submit.

The goddess, in a spirit of malicious revenge, had caused a father to commit a forbidden act with his daughter which brought forth a child whom Aphrodite loved perhaps more completely than any other being. A lifetime of therapy could surely not clear up such a psychic mess as that.

When I first heard this story I thought not more of Alexander but less. “He cheated!” I said. Suppose I “solved” a randomized Rubik’s cube by jemmying it open with a screwdriver until all the pieces fell out and then pressing them back again in the right order? Who would praise that? But Alexander is congratulated by history for “thinking outside the box” and called “the Great.” One rule for the genius warrior kings of the world and another for the rest of us.

“Wine tastes sour without you,” he said. “Dances go wrong and music falls flat on the ears. Where have you been?”

Poor Midas. His name will always mean someone fortunate and rich, but truly he was unlucky and poor. If only he had kept to his roses. Green fingers are better than gold.

Nietzsche looked at it in yet another, slightly different way. For him hope was the most pernicious of all the creatures in the jar because hope prolongs the agony of man’s existence. Zeus had included it in the jar because he wanted it to escape and torment mankind every day with the false promise of something good to come. Pandora’s imprisonment of it was a triumphant act that saved us from Zeus’s worst cruelty. With hope, Nietzsche argued, we are foolish enough to believe there is a point to existence, an end and a promise. Without it we can at least try to get on and live free of delusional aspiration. Hopefully, or hopelessly, we can decide for ourselves.

I cannot repeat too often that it has never been my aim to interpret or explain the myths, only to tell them.

The one website I would most heartily recommend is theoi.com—a simply magnificent resource entirely dedicated to Greek myth. It is a Dutch and New Zealand project that contains over 1,500 pages of text and a gallery of 1,200 pictures comprising vase paintings, sculpture, mosaics, and frescoes on Greek mythological themes. It offers thorough indexing, genealogies, and subject headings. The bibliography is superb, and can lead one on a labyrinthine chase, hopping from source to source like an excited butterfly collector.

Interestingly, the absolute origin of the verb legere and its supine form lectum bears the meaning of “gather”—as in “college” and “collect.” So maybe legends are as much to do with stories that are collected as with those that are written down and read.