Month: March 2025

In ancient Athens and elsewhere, the god Apollo had the epithet “Averter of Evil {Ἀλεξίκακος}.” That epithet reportedly arose from Apollo freeing Athenians from a plague during the Peloponnesian War.[1] Apollo, however, more generally averted evil. He slayed an evil female dragon that served the goddess Hera and disrupted her oppressive gynocracy.

The vicious goddess Hera caused Apollo mother’s Leto to suffer greatly in her pregnancy with him. Leto was a single mother goddess from her affair with Zeus, who was Hera’s husband and a god with strong, independent sexuality. Like Mary the mother of the fully masculine Jesus, Leto had primitive lodging for giving birth. Only Delos, a poor, rocky island in the Aegean Sea, would give Leto a place to birth Apollo.[2] On Delos in the absence of the goddess of birth labor Eileithyia, Leto suffered extensively:

Leto for nine days and nine nights relentlessly
was tormented with childbirth pains.

{ Λητὼ δ᾿ ἐννῆμάρ τε καὶ ἐννέα νύκτας ἀέπτοις
ὠδίνεσσι πέπαρτο. }

Eileithyia wasn’t with Leto because Hera enviously had conspired to ensure her absence:

Eileithyia sat in golden clouds atop Mount Olympus
by the designs of white-armed Hera, who out of envy
held her back, for a faultless and mighty son
was just about to come forth from lovely-haired Leto.

{ ἧστο γὰρ ἄκρωι Ὀλύμπωι ὑπὸ χρυσέοισι νέφεσσιν
Ἥρης φραδμοσύνηις λευκωλένου, ἥ μιν ἔρυκεν
ζηλοσύνηι, ὅ τ᾿ ἄρ᾿ υἱὸν ἀμύμονά τε κρατερόν τε
Λητὼ τέξεσθαι καλλιπλόκαμος τότ᾿ ἔμελλεν. }

Other Olympian goddesses sympathetically attending to the pregnant Leto summoned Eileithyia to her without Hera’s knowledge. With the mother earth smiling, Leto then birthed her magnificent son Apollo on soft meadow grass.

The goddess Hera bitterly rejected equality with her spouse Zeus and instead furiously promoted oppressive gynocracy. She was in fact “one of the oldest and most honored deities of Greece.” Moreover, Hera and Zeus weren’t originally equal:

there were no temples in Greece equally shared by Zeus and Hera. Here and there temples were found that belonged either to Zeus or to Hera, but wherever temples to both exist, excavation has shown every time that Hera’s temple is older.[3]

Hera was historically privileged:

Her temple at Olympia had been in existence for a century and a half before the Temple of Zeus was built. The placement of the ancient cult statues, still seen by Pausanias (5.17.1), leaves little doubt as to who was the real proprietor of the temple. Hera sat on the throne; Zeus, bearded and helmeted, simply stood at her side.

Once a dominant figure surrounded by powerful lions, Hera became by the sixth century BGC merely Zeus’s much-honored equal as queen of Olympus. A Homeric hymn from that time praised Hera as Zeus’s equal:

Of Hera I sing, the gold-throned, whom Rhea bore,
she the immortal queen, of supreme beauty,
sister and wife of Zeus the loud-booming —
she the glorious one, whom all blessed ones on far Olympus
revere and honor no less than thunder-enjoying Zeus.

{ Ἥρην ἀείδω χρυσόθρονον ἣν τέκε Ῥείη,
ἀθανάτην βασίλειαν ὑπείροχον εἶδος ἔχουσαν
Ζηνὸς ἐριγδούποιο κασιγνήτην ἄλοχόν τε
κυδρήν, ἣν πάντες μάκαρες κατὰ μακρὸν Ὄλυμπον
ἁζόμενοι τίουσιν ὁμῶς Διὶ τερπικεραύνῳ. }[4]

Despite being honored as a supremely beautiful queen and being revered no less than Zeus, Hera insistently felt that she should be explicitly honored and revered as more important than her husband Zeus. She wanted to rule over Zeus, and over all mortal men and women, too.

Like women expressing no concern about men being subject to compelled financial fatherhood and men having no reproductive rights whatsoever, Hera thought only of herself. She was furious at her husband’s initiative for reproductive independence. She complained to all the divinities:

Hear from me, all you gods and all you goddesses,
how Zeus the cloud-gatherer started to dishonor me
first. After he had made me his wife, one knowing prudence,
he has now given birth without me to bright-eyed Athena,
who stands out among all the blessed immortals.

{ κέκλυτέ μεο, πάντές τε θεοὶ πᾶσαί τε θέαιναι,
ὡς ἔμ᾿ ἀτιμάζειν ἄρχει νεφεληγερέτα Ζεύς
πρῶτος, ἐπεί μ᾿ ἄλοχον ποιήσατο κέδν᾿ εἰδυῖαν,
καὶ νῦν νόσφιν ἐμεῖο τέκε γλαυκῶπιν Ἀθήνην,
ἣ πᾶσιν μακάρεσσι μεταπρέπει ἀθανάτοισιν· }

Hera’s husband Zeus bore Athena from his forehead. For that, Hera disparaged and threatened him:

You wretch of many schemes, what will you devise next?
How did you dare to birth bright-eyed Athena on your own?
Could I not have given birth? She would be called yours nonetheless
among the immortals who inhabit broad heaven.
Now take heed that I might not devise some evil for you hereafter.

{ σχέτλιε, ποικιλομῆτα, τί νῦν μητίσεαι ἄλλο;
πῶς ἔτλης οἶος τεκέειν γλαυκῶπιν Ἀθήνην;
οὐκ ἂν ἐγὼ τεκόμην; καὶ σὴ κεκλημένη ἔμπης
ἦ<ν ἄ>ρ᾿ ἐν ἀθανάτοισιν οἳ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσιν.
φράζεο νῦν, μή τοί τι κακὸν μητίσομ᾿ ὀπίσσω. }

Mothers know their biological children for certain. Without parthenogenesis or modern DNA testing, fathers lack that certainty. That’s a fundamental gender inequality. Hera contemptuously attacked her husband for his bold initiative to promote gender equality.

Underscoring her disregard for actual gender equality, Hera undertook a “me too” reproductive action. She scornfully told her husband:

And right now I will contrive so that I will birth
my son, who will be outstanding among the immortal gods.
I will neither disgrace your sacred bed, nor my own.
I won’t sleep with you, but will rather stay far
from you and instead associate with other immortal gods.

{ καὶ νῦν μέν τοι ἐγὼ τεχνήσομαι ὥς κε γένηται
παῖς ἐμός, ὅς κε θεοῖσι μεταπρέποι ἀθανάτοισιν,
οὔτε σὸν αἰσχύνασ᾿ ἱερὸν λέχος οὔτ᾿ ἐμὸν αὐτῆς·
οὐδέ τοι εἰς εὐνὴν πωλήσομαι, ἀλλ᾿ ἀπὸ σεῖο
τηλόθ᾿ ἐοῦσα θεοῖσι μετέσσομαι ἀθανάτοισιν. }

Hera thus declared that she wouldn’t cuckold her husband, but would impose on him a sexless marriage. Just as Zeus on his own gave birth to Athena, Hera planned to give birth independently:

Having spoken so, from the gods Hera departed, angry at heart.
Then immediately she prayed, large-eyed lady Hera did.
She struck the earth with the flat of her hand and said:
“Hear me now, Earth and broad Sky stretching above,
and you Titan gods who dwell beneath the earth
around huge Tartarus and from whom gods and men descend —
all of you, hear me and grant me a son
apart from Zeus, one in no way inferior to him in strength,
but as much superior as wide-thundering Zeus is to Kronos.”

{ ὣς εἰποῦσ᾿ ἀπονόσφι θεῶν κίε χωομένη κῆρ.
αὐτίκ᾿ ἔπειτ᾿ ἠρᾶτο βοῶπις πότνια Ἥρη,
χειρὶ καταπρηνεῖ δ᾿ ἔλασε χθόνα καὶ φάτο μῦθον·
“κέκλυτε νῦν μοι, Γαῖα καὶ Οὐρανὸς εὐρὺς ὕπερθεν
Τιτῆνές τε θεοί, τοὶ ὑπὸ χθονὶ ναιετάουσιν
Τάρταρον ἀμφὶ μέγαν, τῶν ἒξ ἄνδρές τε θεοί τε·
αὐτοὶ νῦν μεο πάντες ἀκούσατε, καὶ δότε παῖδα
νόσφι Διός, μηδέν τι βίην ἐπιδευέα κείνου,
ἀλλ᾿ ὅ γε φέρτερος εἴη, ὅσον Κρόνου εὐρύοπα
Ζεύς.” }

Hera engaged in familial and cosmic treachery. Zeus overthrew his father and the rest of the Titans and banished them to Tartarus. He then married Hera. Under Hera’s power and control, Zeus became merely the nominal ruler of the cosmos. Hera’s prayer for a son stronger than Zeus suggests that she sought a son who could depose Zeus and establish her as the explicitly recognized, sole ruler of the cosmos. Hera beat the earth again and felt it move. She took that movement to signal that her prayer would be fulfilled.

Asserting her independence, Hera for a full year neither slept with her husband nor sat at his side. Hera’s action produced not a wise, skillful divinity like Athena, but a monster:

After a year had revolved and the seasons came again,
Hera gave birth to one resembling neither gods nor mortals,
the fearsome and troublesome Typhon, misery to mortals.

{ ἂψ περιτελλομένου ἔτεος καὶ ἐπήλυθον ὧραι,
ἣ δ᾿ ἔτεκ᾿ οὔτε θεοῖς ἐναλίγκιον οὔτε βροτοῖσιν,
δεινόν τ᾿ ἀργαλέον τε Τυφάονα, πῆμα βροτοῖσιν. }[5]

Hera, a vicious mother, threw her own son Hephaestus into the sea merely because he was differently abled.[6] Apparently unconcerned about Typhon’s welfare, she gave him to Delphyne to nurture. Delphyne was an evil serpent:

a savage monster, one that inflicted many evils
upon men on the earth — many to themselves,
many to their long-shanked sheep, for she became a bloody calamity.

{ τέρας ἄγριον, ἣ κακὰ πολλὰ
ἀνθρώπους ἔρδεσκεν ἐπὶ χθονί, πολλὰ μὲν αὐτούς,
πολλὰ δὲ μῆλα ταναύποδ᾿, ἐπεὶ πέλε πῆμα δαφοινόν. }

One monster begets another monster, who is nurtured by a third. Without heroic action, monsters will dominate the world.

The heroic god Apollo with his mighty bow slayed the evil serpent Delphyne. His action benefited all of humanity:

She used to do much harm to the teeming peoples.
Whoever encountered her was carried off to his day of doom
until the far-shooting lord Apollo discharged his powerful arrow
at her. Racked by horrible pain she lay,
loudly gasping, rolling about the place.
A wondrous, unspeakable noise arose, as she among the trees
kept writhing this way and that. Her life departed
with bloody exhalations.

{ ἣ κακὰ πόλλ᾿ ἔρδεσκε κατὰ κλυτὰ φῦλ᾿ ἀνθρώπων·
ὃς τῆι γ᾿ ἀντιάσειε, φέρεσκέ μιν αἴσιμον ἦμαρ,
πρίν γέ οἱ ἰὸν ἐφῆκεν ἄναξ ἑκάεργος Ἀπόλλων
καρτερόν· ἣ δ᾿ ὀδύνηισιν ἐρεχθομένη χαλεπῆισιν
κεῖτο μέγ᾿ ἀσθμαίνουσα, κυλινδομένη κατὰ χῶρον.
θεσπεσίη δ᾿ ἐνοπὴ γένετ᾿ ἄσπετος· ἣ δὲ καθ᾿ ὕλην
πυκνὰ μάλ᾿ ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα ἑλίσσετο, λεῖπε δὲ θυμόν,
φοινὸν ἀποπνείουσ᾿. }

Apollo rightly exulted over this dead monster:

Now rot away here on the earth that feeds humanity!
You will not be an evil calamity to mortals
who will eat the fruits of the nurturing soil
and bring full and effective cattle sacrifices to me here.
Not from grisly death will either Typhon
or the accursed Chimaera save you, but you indeed here
will rot into the dark earth and the sun-god Hyperion.

{ ἐνταυθοῖ νῦν πύθε᾿ ἐπὶ χθονὶ βωτιανείρηι·
οὐδὲ σύ γ᾿ ἐν ζωοῖσι κακὸν δήλημα βροτοῖσιν
ἔσσεαι, οἳ γαίης πολυφόρβου καρπὸν ἔδοντες
ἐνθάδ᾿ ἀγινήσουσι τεληέσσας ἑκατόμβας,
οὐδέ τί τοι θάνατόν γε δυσηλεγέ᾿ οὔτε Τυφωεύς
ἀρκέσει οὐδὲ Χίμαιρα δυσώνυμος, ἀλλὰ σέ γ᾿ αὐτοῦ
πύσει γαῖα μέλαινα καὶ ἠλέκτωρ Ὑπερίων. }[7]

Hyperion was one of the Titans that Hera implored to help her give conceive independently of her husband. Typhon fared no better than his mother the evil serpent that Apollo slayed. The monster Typhon was badly burned and cast into Tartarus after he rebelled against Zeus. The reign of monsters isn’t inevitable.[8]

Apollo resisted oppressive gynocracy and showed a joyful alternative. In contrast to men dancing war dances displaying themselves as social instruments of violence against men, Apollo danced for joy in a festival on Olympus:

The lovely-haired goddesses of grace and the jovial goddesses of seasons,
the goddesses of harmony and youth, and Zeus’s daughter Aphrodite
all dance, each holding each others’ hands at the wrist.
Among them sings and dances a woman neither ugly nor short of stature,
but tall to behold and admirable in appearance.
She is Artemis, ready with arrows and twin of Apollo.
Also among them the war god Ares and the keen-sighted giant-slayer Hermes
dance joyfully while radiant Apollo plays his lyre in the middle.
Apollo is stepping high and beautifully, and radiance shines around him
from the glintings of his feet and his skillfully woven tunic.
The golden-haired Leto and the resourceful Zeus delight
in their great hearts as they watch
their beloved son dancing joyfully among the immortal divinities.

{ ὐτὰρ ἐϋπλόκαμοι Χάριτες καὶ ἐΰφρονες Ὧραι
Ἁρμονίη θ᾿ Ἥβη τε Διὸς θυγάτηρ τ᾿ Ἀφροδίτη
ὀρχέοντ᾿ ἀλλήλων ἐπὶ καρπῶι χεῖρας ἔχουσαι·
τῆισι μὲν οὔτ᾿ αἰσχρὴ μεταμέλπεται οὔτ᾿ ἐλάχεια,
ἀλλὰ μάλα μεγάλη τε ἰδεῖν καὶ εἶδος ἀγητή
Ἄρτεμις ἰοχέαιρα ὁμότροφος Ἀπόλλωνι·
ἐν δ᾿ αὖ τῆισιν Ἄρης καὶ ἐΰσκοπος Ἀργειφόντης
παίζουσ᾿· αὐτὰρ ὃ Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων ἐγκιθαρίζει
καλὰ καὶ ὕψι βιβάς, αἴγλη δέ μιν ἀμφιφαείνει
μαρμαρυγαί τε ποδῶν καὶ ἐϋκλώστοιο χιτῶνος.
οἳ δ᾿ ἐπιτέρπονται θυμὸν μέγαν εἰσορόωντες
Λητώ τε χρυσοπλόκαμος καὶ μητίετα Ζεύς
υἷα φίλον παίζοντα μετ᾿ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν. }[9]

Within that divine celebration, the Muses recognized the difficulties that men endure:

The Muses, all responding together with beautiful voices,
sing of the gods’ divine gifts and the endurance of men,
all that men have from the immortal gods,
and yet men live ignorant and helpless, not able
to find a remedy for death and a defense against old age.

{ Μοῦσαι μέν θ᾿ ἅμα πᾶσαι ἀμειβόμεναι ὀπὶ καλῆι
ὑμνέουσίν ῥα θεῶν δῶρ᾿ ἄμβροτα ἠδ᾿ ἀνθρώπων
τλημοσύνας, ὅσ᾿ ἔχοντες ὑπ᾿ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν
ζώουσ᾿ ἀφραδέες καὶ ἀμήχανοι, οὐδὲ δύνανται
εὑρέμεναι θανάτοιό τ᾿ ἄκος καὶ γήραος ἄλκαρ. }[10]

In the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, Aphrodite understood that Anchises’s mortality made him more sexually attractive to her. Men’s sexuality seeds humanity’s remedy against death and old age. Oppressive gynocracy seeks to control and repress men’s sexuality, just as Hera did in relation to Zeus. Nonetheless, benefiting from Apollo’s example, men need not live ignorantly and helplessly. Men can learn the truth, overcome monsters, and dance for joy.

Apollo particularly delighted in Delos, where Ionian children, men, and women represented a remedy for death and a defense against old age. The Ionians at Delos remembered Apollo and engaged in boxing, dancing, and singing:

Yet in Delos, shining Apollo, your heart most delights.
There in your honor the long-robed Ionians gather together
into your public square — themselves with their children and women.
And with boxing and dancing and singing they
delight you, remembering you when they stage the contest.
Whoever might encounter them, the Ionians assembled,
might suppose they were immortal and ageless forever.
One would see the grace of them all and be delighted at heart
looking upon the men and the lovely waist-banded women,
the swift ships, and the people’s many possessions.

{ ἀλλὰ σὺ Δήλωι, Φοῖβε, μάλιστ᾿ ἐπιτέρπεαι ἦτορ,
ἔνθά τοι ἑλκεχίτωνες Ἰάονες ἠγερέθονται
αὐτοῖς σὺν παίδεσσι γυναιξί τε σὴν ἐς ἄγυιαν·
οἳ δέ σε πυγμαχίηι τε καὶ ὀρχηστυῖ καὶ ἀοιδῆι
μνησάμενοι τέρπουσιν, ὅταν καθέσωσιν ἀγῶνα.
φαίη κ᾿ ἀθανάτους καὶ ἀγήρως ἔμμεναι ἀνήρ,
ὃς τότ᾿ ἐπαντιάσει᾿, ὅτ᾿ Ἰάονες ἁθρόοι εἶεν·
πάντων γάρ κεν ἴδοιτο χάριν, τέρψαιτο δὲ θυμόν
ἄνδράς τ᾿ εἰσορόων καλλιζώνους τε γυναῖκας
νῆάς τ᾿ ὠκείας ἠδ᾿ αὐτῶν κτήματα πολλά. }[11]

An immortal and ageless society unites men with children and women. It’s capable of fighting, dancing, and singing. It’s materially well-provisioned. Neither fighting nor providing material goods are men’s distinctive gender burden. Fully appreciated for their intrinsic value as human beings, men dance gracefully and joyfully with children and women.[12]

Apollo, who loved both men and women, is a “χάρμα βροτοῖσιν {delight to mortals}.” He is an “arch-opponent of matriarchy,” “the personification of anti-matriarchy.”[13] Both women and men suffer under oppressive matriarchy and gynocracy such as that which the goddess Hera exemplifies. Meninism is the radical notion that men are fully human beings and fully equal to women. All persons of good will and good heart should identify as meninists. They should resist and persist.[14] The god Apollo, rightly regarded as a proto-meninist, offers a shining beacon of hope that monsters will not rule over humans.

* * * * *

Read more:

• missing Persephone, raging Demeter sought to exterminate humanity
• Juno’s hate sent Allecto to inflame Amata, Turnus, and bitches
• medieval feminine power: divine to demonic in elite discourse

Notes:

[1] Pausanias, Description of Greece, 6.24.6 (Elis 2) and 8.42.8-9 (Arcadia). In addition to “Averter of Evil {Ἀλεξίκακος}, ” Apollo was also known as “Apollo the Healer {Ἀπόλλων Ἀκέσιος}” and “Apollo the Physician {Ἀπόλλων Ἰατρός}.”

[2] While on a journey, Mary, the lowly mother of Jesus, gave birth to Jesus in a manger in Bethlehem because there was no room for her at the inn there. Luke 2:7. Bethlehem was an eminent city known as the city of David, the great Jewish king. Jesus’s home place, however, was the undistinguished city of Nazareth.

Mary and Delos were greatly exalted by the births of Jesus and Apollo, respectively. On Mary being exalted by giving birth to Jesus, Luke 1:46-55. In the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, at Delos’s request Leto swore an oath that concluded:

Truly indeed here will be forever Phoibos Apollo’s fragrant
altar and precinct. He will honor you above all others.

{ ἦ μὴν Φοίβου τῆιδε θυώδης ἔσσεται αἰεί
βωμὸς καὶ τέμενος, τίσει δέ σέ γ᾿ ἔξοχα πάντων. }

Homeric Hymns 3, Homeric Hymn to Apollo, vv. 86-7, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from West (2003). Alternate English translations are those of Merrill (2011), Rayor (2004), Shelmerdine (1995), and Evelyn-White (1914). For a commentary on Homeric Hymn to Apollo vv. 1-178, Bonnell (2019).

Jesus had a much more humble birth than Apollo. All the most eminent goddesses except Hera attended Apollo’s birth. The newly born Apollo was wrapped in fine-woven cloth secured with a gold cord. He was fed not from his mother Leto’s breast, but served nectar and lovely ambrosia that the goddess Themis served to him. Homeric Hymn to Apollo vv. 92-5, 121-5. In contrast, Jesus was attended at his birth only by his father and the animals of the manger. The newly born Jesus was wrapped in undistinguished swaddling clothes, and fed from Mary’s breast. Soon after his birth local shepherds visited him. Luke 2:7-20.

Jews and Christians understand the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as acting in history. Study of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo suggests that the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob also acted within literary history.

Unless otherwise noted, subsequent quotes above are from the Homeric Hymn to Apollo and are similarly sourced. Those quotes are Homeric Hymn to Apollo vv. 91-2 (Leto for nine days…), 98-101 (Eileithyia sat in golden clouds…), 311-5 (Hear from me…), 322-5a (You wretch of many schemes…), 326-30 (And right now I will contrive…), 331-9 (Having spoken so, from the gods Hera departed…), 350-2 (After a year had revolved…), 302-4 (a savage monster…), 355-62 (She used to do much harm…), 363-9 (Now rot away here…), 194-206 (The lovely-haired goddesses of grace…), 189-93 (The Muses, all responding together…), 146-155 (Yet in Delos, shining Apollo…).

[3] Simon (2021 / 1969) p. 39. The previous short quote, “one of the oldest and most honored deities of Greece,” is from id. p. 38. The subsequent quote above is from id. p. 38.

[4] Homeric Hymns 12, Homeric Hymn to Hera, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from West (2003). Alternate English translations are those of Rayor (2004), Shelmerdine (1995), and Evelyn-White (1914). On Hera in the Homeric Hymns, Bernabé (2017).

Analyzing the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, a scholar observed of its probable audience:

There were probably Hera worshippers, as mentioned at 347 (“her temples where many pray” and bring offerings) – worshippers from Samos or Argos, for example, who (given Hera’s centrality to their lives) might object to the hymnist’s portrayal of her at 305-355 and find it offensive.

Felson (2012) p. 270. Just as courtiers revered Empress Theodora and General Belisarius worshiped his wife’s feet, some men will worship a woman no matter how evil she is. As for finding a text offensive, that’s primarily a practice of our narrow-minded and intolerant age. Some scholars today would credit Hera for helping the marginalized evil serpent and for being a strong, independent woman in conceiving the monster Typhon on her own. Perhaps some listeners in the ancient Greek world would interpret the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, vv. 305-355, in that same way.

[5] For Homeric Hymn to Apollo, v. 352, I chose “Typhaon, miserty to mortals {Τυϕάονα, πῆμα βροτοῖσιν}” rather than “Typhaon, misery to gods {Τυϕάονα, πῆμα θεοῖσιν},” following Merrill (2011) and Felson (2012) p. 277, rather than West (2003)’s choice of the latter. Both phrases are attested in different manuscripts. The former choice makes Homeric Hymn to Apollo, v. 352, a doublet of id. v. 306.

[6] Totally lacking remorse for her cruel treatment of her differently abled son, Hera declared:

But he has turned out a weakling among the gods,
my son Hephaestus of the withered legs, whom I myself bore,
[a shame and disgrace to me in heaven, and I myself]
picked him up and threw him into the broad sea,
but Nereus’s daughter, Thetis of silvery feet,
took him in and with her sisters nurtured him.
I wish she had served the blessed gods differently!

{ αὐτὰρ ὅ γ᾿ ἠπεδανὸς γέγονεν μετὰ πᾶσι θεοῖσιν
παῖς ἐμὸς Ἥφαιστος ῥικνὸς πόδας, ὃν τέκον αὐτή.
[αἶσχος ἐμοὶ καὶ ὄνειδος ἐν οὐρανῷ ὅντε καὶ αὐτή]
ῥῖψ᾿ ἀνὰ χερσὶν ἑλοῦσα καὶ ἔμβαλον εὐρέϊ πόντωι·
ἀλλά ἑ Νηρῆος θυγάτηρ Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα
δέξατο καὶ μετὰ ἧισι κασιγνήτηισι κόμισσεν·
ὡς ὄφελ᾿ ἄλλο θεοῖσι χαρίσσασθαι μακάρεσσιν. }

Homeric Hymn to Apollo, vv. 316-21. A lacuna exists between verses 317 and 318. Allen, Halliday & Sikes (1934) p. 248. Without any manuscript support, Allen (1895), p. 278, offered the Greek verse in brackets. Hephaestus’s experience parallels in significant ways the experience of Typhon / Typhaon / Typhoeus. Garcia (2013) Chapter 5. On parallels in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, Martin (2020) pp. 186-9.

Hephaestus in the Iliad lamented:

pain came upon me after I had fallen far
through the will of my shameless mother, who sought to hide me
because of my lameness.

{ μ᾿ ἄλγος ἀφίκετο τῆλε πεσόντα
μητρὸς ἐμῆς ἰότητι κυνώπιδος, ἥ μ᾿ ἐθέλησε
κρύψαι χωλὸν ἐόντα· }

Iliad 18.395-7, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from Murray (1924) . Cf. Iliad 1.590, which blames Zeus.

[7] In the above English translations of verses from the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, I’ve standardized the names Typhaon (vv. 306, 352) and Typhoeus (v. 367) to Typhon. In context, Typhaon and Typhoeus seem to me best understand as variant names for Typhon. On the monster Typhon, Ogdon (2013) pp. 69-80.

Delphyne isn’t named in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, but merely identified as a “female serpent / dragon {δράκαινα}” in v. 300. According to a scholia to Apollonius of Rhodes’s Argonautica, Callimachus called the one guarding the Delphic oracle a female serpent / dragon {δράκαινα} named Delphyna {Δέλφυνα}. Callimachus, Aetia, Book IV, fragment 88 in Clayman (2022).

Perhaps indicating the reluctance of men to identify female serpents / dragons, “subsequent tradition has little interest in developing the {female} drakaina variant.” Ogden (2013) p. 42. While the Pythian portion of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo was composed early in the sixth century BGC, by about 500 BGC the female drakaina {δράκαινα} apparently had been transformed into the male serpent / dragon {δράκων} named Python or Pytho. Pytho was an early name for Delphi. Homeric Hymn to Apollo, v. 372. The male monster Python / Pytho “is always aligned with female chthonic forces who have prior possession of the shrine” at Delphi. Zeitlin (2023) p. 150, n. 31. Writing in the fourth century GC, the Emperor Julian asserted:

Apollo subdued Python, the dragon, with a hundred arrows, as Simonides said.

{ διότι τὸν Πυθῶνα, τὸν δράκοντα, βέλεσιν ἑκατὸν ὥς φησιν ἐχειρώσατο }

Julian, Letters 24, excerpt catalogued as Simonides of Ceos, fragment 573, ancient Greek text and English translation (with pronouns glossed as the clearly indicted proper nouns) from Campbell (1991) pp. 458-9. Ovid’s account of Apollo killing the dragon Python emphasizes brutal violence of male against male. Ovid, Metamorphoses 1.434-47. At least some ancient scholars showed concern about the transformed gender of the dragon:

the Homeric Hymn to Apollo was to fire a vigorous debate, perhaps initiated by playful Hellenistic poets, as to whether the Delphic serpent was a male Delphynes or female Delphyne, and this debate seems to have become something of a mytheme in its own right.

Ogden (2013) p. 42. Recent scholarship has muddled the sex of the Delphic serpent in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo by naming her Python. E.g Felson (2012) pp. 264-5.

[8] Writing in the dominant anti-meninist tradition while pretending to the highly acclaimed position of “resisting reader,” a scholar seemingly not meaning to appear ridiculous wrote:

Apollo kills Python {the evil female serpent, classically named Delphyne}, and because the hymnist explicitly labels her an evil and classifies her death as a liberation from evil, it is hard for the resisting reader to rehabilitate her.

Felson (2012) p. 275. Modern literary scholars have honored Philomena for killing her innocent son. They surely might also declare an evil female serpent to be an agent of the marginalized and oppressed struggling for liberation.

[9] Hermes here is literally called the Argus-slayer {Ἀργειφόντης}. Hermes slayed the giant Argus. Apollo’s feet glinting / gleaming is characteristic of dancers in motion in ancient Greek texts. Kurke (2012) p. 228.

In the above verses, παίζουσ᾿ (v. 201) and παίζοντα (v. 206) are forms of the ancient Greek verb παίζειν / paizein. That verb here means a particular type of dancing:

As a matter of fact, paizein (‘to play’) serves as one of the termini technici for dancing in Greek culture. … Since Homer the Greek word has served as an emblematic expression for carefree and joyful dancing. On the oldest piece of evidence for Attic competitive dance culture, a late geometric oinokhoē by the Dipylon master (750-725 BCE), we can already find the following hexametric verse inscription: “Whoever of all the dancers now plays the most exuberantly, to him belongs this [vessel]” (ὃς νῦν ὀρχηστῶν πάντων ἀταλώτατα παίζει, τοῦ τόδε KΑ̣ỊΜỊΝ). One can easily recognize in this verb paizei (παίζει) the substantive pais (παῖς). Simple dance without any sophisticated artistry is to a certain extent “child’s play”.

Bierl (2021) paras. 1, 5 (references omitted, including a reference citing the verse inscription on the oinokhoē Athens, National Museum 192). Many translations of vv. 201, 206 have failed to make explicit the reference to dance, e.g. translating forms of παίζειν in those verses as “sport” in West (2003).

The Homeric Hymn to Apollo addresses the relationship between individuals and the group. That’s a fundamental question of politics in relation to Olympus. Clay (1989). The festival on Olympus both incorporates Apollo into the Olympian order and distinguishes him among gods. He’s effectively a chorus-leader for the festival on Olympus. Hendricks (2020a) pp. 98-104, Hendricks (2020b).

Apollo dancing for joy, and with him men and women, is associated with the goddess “Good Governance {Εὐνομία}”:

The Olympian passage of the Hymn clearly delineates how the components of choral performance — instrumental music, poetry, song, and choral dancing — function together as ordering forces to forge what might be called Eunomia (Good Order), sibling of the dance-loving Horai. The choral interlude on Olympus is also a prototype of the civic order fostered by music and dance.

Lonsdale (1994) p. 35. Lonsdale, however, wrongly projected onto this passage men’s gender position as social instruments of war:

The emphasis on choral dancing for young girls in particular is alluded to in the description of Artemis’ chorus, where the Kharites, Hebe, and other khoreutai embody qualities deemed desirable for marriageable girls to acquire through choral rites. The equivalent form of choreographic training for adolescent boys was the weapon dance. The presence of Ares in the dance may be an allusion to this widespread form of paramilitary training which is attested in the cults of Apollo and Artemis.

Id. pp. 35-6. The weapon dance was not a joyful, playful dance. The presence of Ares joyfully, playfully dancing highlights men dancing for pleasure in contrast to men dancing for war.

[10] Translations of these verses have projected on them fundamental misinterpretations. For example:

all of the Muses together in lovely antiphonal voices
hymn the ambrosial gifts that the gods enjoy, and the sorrows
which men under the hands of the deathless gods ever suffer,
living without understanding and helpless, nor are they ever
able to find any cure for their death or defense against old age.

Merrill (2011). In this translation, the gods enjoy ambrosial (divine) gifts and sing lovely songs about how men sorrow under the gods’ hands. An alternate translation:

The Muses, responding all together with lovely voice, sing of the gods’ divine gifts and of human sufferings — all that they have from the immortal gods and yet live witless and helpless, unable to find a remedy for death or a defence against old age.

West (2003). In this translation, humans receive good from the gods, yet the gods still sing lovely songs about how humans suffer. A scholar who carefully analyzed these verses observed:

Lines 189–93 {of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo} describe a song of the Muses that expresses a divine view on the human condition. Scholars uniformly hold that the Olympians rejoice in hearing about how they themselves inflict pain on mankind.

Spelman (2020) p. 1. Spelman offers a significantly better translation:

Most scholars have understood θεῶν δῶρ’ ἄμβροτα (190) to mean the privileges that the gods themselves enjoy, in particular immortality; some recent scholars instead understand this to mean the gifts which the gods give to mortals. The latter sense is preferable. …

If θεῶν δῶρ’ ἄμβροτα (190) describes gifts that gods give to men, are these gifts good or bad or a mixture of both good and bad?… The gifts of the gods are probably desirable here too.

Scholars have long translated τλημοϲύναϲ (191) along the lines of ‘sufferings’, but Heitsch makes a powerful case for instead taking it to mean ‘endurance’. …

Since lines 190–1 refer to two sorts of good things, we should follow West in taking the participle ἔχοντεϲ (191) as concessive: ‘all that they have from the immortal gods and yet live witless and helpless’ (my emphasis). Here men are ‘helpless’ (192) not because of, but rather despite, all that they have from the gods.

Id. pp. 1-4. In summary,

In this hymn, the gifts of the gods are good and work to mitigate, not exacerbate, mortal frailties.

Id. p. 6. Above I have followed Spelman’s arguments in providing the English translation.

[11] Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War 3.104. quotes the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, vv. 146-50, 165-72, and attributes the hymn to Homer. On this reception, Nagy (2011).

Some scholars think that the Homeric Hymn to Apollo was performed in Delos in 522 BGC, shortly before the Persians killed Polycrates of Samos, who was then ruling Delos. Nagy (2011) p. 287. For a more skeptical view and a thorough review of the historical evidence, Bonnell (2019) pp. 22-33.

The chorus of Delian maidens in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo obviously excludes men, as well as older women and children. Nonetheless, a scholar has credited the Delian Maidens (Deliades) with a “shared, convergent and inclusive choral enactment”:

the depiction of the Deliades’ performances as typical instances of choreia in its most inclusive meaning, where various types and combinations of vocal and kinetic activity create an inseparable whole.

Peponi (2009) pp. 65 (shared, convergent…), 57 (the depiction of the Deliades’ performance…). The Ionians dancing in honor of Apollo provided a much more diverse and inclusive enactment, at least in today’s understanding of identity and inclusion. Moreover, “leading from within” reflects the practice of Apollo in the Olympian festival. Hendricks (2020b). The ancient Greeks perhaps had a more sophisticated understanding of diversity and inclusion:

An essential part of the Delian Maidens’ enchantment is to make you feel that in their voice you can hear your own, that in their performance you can see yourself. This moment is, I think, meant to be praised as a moment where not only the local becomes universal, but, also, where the personal transcends its borders and approaches the sublime.

Id. p. 67. This claim for the Delian Maidens seems more obviously applicable to the Ionian men, children, and women dancing in honor of Apollo.

[12] Scholars have paid much more attention to the immediately subsequent verses concerning the Delian maidens. Those verses suggest the practice of choruses in classical Greek drama. Nagy (2013).

Apollo celebrating with the Olympians parallels the Ionians and the Delian maidens celebrating Apollo at Delos. The Olympian celebration includes only immortals, while the Delian celebration includes humans and the god Apollo. The two celebration nonetheless have been starkly contrasted:

It is possible to see in the Olympian and Delian passages a sort of myth of origin for human dance and song that provides a solution to the crisis that divides divine and human existence. The solution is a compromise, since the experience of sharing privileged gifts with the gods is vicarious and temporary. But in an important sense, it is illusory and based on the distinctly human ability to represent mimetically through ludus human and divine themes.

Lonsdale (1994) p. 38. Divine and human existences are closely related in ancient Greek thought. Moreover, the relation between divine and human in ancient Greek understanding encompasses far more than mimetic drama. The Delian passage refers to the Ionian men, children, and women, and the Ionian ships and material possessions. Those references indicate broader concerns than just the acts of a chorus.

Given prevalent misunderstanding of the Muses’s hymns, as Spelman (2020) documents, the relation between the two celebrations has also been misunderstood. The Ionians celebrating at Delos have been imagined to be not like other humans:

The gulf between the privileged existence of the Olympians and the sufferings of mortals is emphasized by the twin subjects of the Muses’ hymns: the unending gifts enjoyed by the gods and the sufferings of humans. These mortals, unable to find an antidote to death or even old age, are the inverse of the godlike Ionians in the full swing of the festival. This pathetic state of things — the condition of the human race after the Golden Age when gods and mortals no longer danced together at the same festivals — is taken up and transformed by Plato into the origins of paideia in the Laws (653).

Lonsdale (1994) p. 33. The Ionians celebrating Apollo in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo are better understood to indicate real human possibility in following Apollo to overcome oppressive gynocracy.

[13] Slater (1968) pp. 139, 137. With the authoritative pronouncements of a Freudian theorist, Slater harshly disparages Apollo for his “opposition to matriarchy in all its forms”:

Apollo’s attacks on chthonic monsters thus incorporate the brittle narcissism of the Greek male, in constant struggle against inundation by oral-dependent longings and the dread of woman. … Apollo’s priggish and Draconian opposition to matriarchy in all its forms also betrays this weakness and self-doubt.

Id. p. 160. Slater associated Apollo with the divine hero Heracles:

Like Apollo, he {Heracles} affects a masculine antisepsis against matriarchy, femininity, and chthonic forces everywhere.

Id. p. 338. Apollo and Heracles loved feminine women as much as medieval men did. Antisepsis against matriarchy and chthonic forces, whether that antisepsis is masculine or feminine, should be welcomed and celebrated.

Compared to Apollo, Heracles had much less success in dealing with oppressive gynocracy. Heracles was subordinated and abused under Omphale, who tragically became his wife. Moreover, Heracles died under the “tormenting wrath of Hera {ἀργαλέος χόλος Ἥρης}. Iliad 18.119. Heracles’s mother Alcmene originally named him Alcides. She changed his name to Heracles, which literally means “glory of Hera,” in an attempt to prevent Hera from harming him. Nonetheless, like the goddess Demeter, Hera raged on despite attempts to mollify her. Slater justified Hera’s rage with sociological myths about ancient Greece and Freudian abstractions. In contrast, committing hate speech under guidelines that Facebook used, Slater dehumanized Achilles by smearing him as “merely a wellborn gorilla.” Id. p. 339.

Reviews of Salter (1968) reveal the sociological reality that underpins his mythic writing. One scholarly reviewer, without any apparent sense of irony, declared:

This fascinating book deserves the attention of classicists interested in a psychoanalytically trained sociologist’s elucidation of Greek mythology.

Friedl (1969) p. 124. Anyone interested in “a psychoanalytically trained sociologist’s elucidation of Greek mythology” will find many fascinating letter shapes in Slater’s book. But another scholar reviewing Slater (1968) warned:

While his conclusions are not incompatible with a feminist reading of Greek literature, his book should be used with care.

Foley (1975) p. 36. In this intellectual tradition, one must be careful that students don’t question feminist ideology, nor think in new ways.

Despite the need to use Slater (1968) with care to avoid harm to feminism, this book has been widely distributed. Beacon Press re-issued it in 1992. Princeton University Press published it in 1992. In 2014, it became an online course book in the Princeton Legacy Library and part of the prestigious Bollingen Series in World Mythology. That’s an impressive achievement for “a psychoanalytically trained sociologist’s elucidation of Greek mythology,” one that interprets Achilles to be “merely a wellborn gorilla.” Perhaps this book received high credit for disparaging Apollo and others for their “opposition to matriarchy in all its forms.” In any case, Slater deserves to be commended at least because his book “was not intended at all,” although that claim might “distort history.” Id. p. ix.

[14] Modern Greek and Latin philologists have been ashamed of men’s penises. Following upon Socratic repression, they have obscured castration culture, even torturing the penis. A scholar writing in the dominant anti-meninist tradition pretended to offer a “resisting reading” of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo:

Not all the listeners were triumphant insiders who unequivocally identified with the victorious and virile young Apollo! There were foreigners, or those of a lower class, or women of any age-grade.

Felson (2012) p. 270. In the ancient Greek world, surely a very small share of the listeners of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo were “triumphant insiders.” Oppressed men, among which were foreigners and lower-class men, along with women who loved them, probably identified with the “victorious and virile young Apollo.” Other women surely admired virile men in general and despised the horrible ruling Hera and her effort to impose a hateful, oppressive gynocracy. Scholars working in the anti-meninist tradition project their ideology upon all of human history and reify their own myths constructed upon lies and gossip:

Might not an interpreter, then, with a frame of reference that privileges the weak and subordinated take the rumored designation of Apollo as atasthalos, “reckless, violent, hubristic” (67), to accurately characterize the god, particularly in terms of how he treats those who offend or cross him? That interpreter might sustain a negative perspective on Apollo’s triumph at Delphi and even reflect on the cost to subordinates, often female subordinates, of the Olympian order. Does the hymnist allow for such a “resisting reading” of Apollo?

Id. p. 271. An interpreter might reflect on Zeus, fearful and hiding from Hera’s rages. A frame of reference privileging weak and subordinated men doesn’t depend on slanderous rumors that the female personification of Delos relayed. A resisting reading identifies with the virile Apollo slaying the evil serpent Delphyne. A resisting reading celebrates Apollo for foiling an insurrectionist conspiracy of the historically privileged Hera.

[images] (1) Roman Kassel Apollo. Made in the second quarter of the second century GC. Thought to be a copy of “Apollo the Locust-Killer / Parnopios Apollo {Ἀπόλλων Παρνόπιος}” of the eminent Greek sculptor Phidias in the fifth century BGC. A swarm of locusts was a type of plague. Sculpture preserved as MR 117 in the Louvre Museum (Paris, France), which provided the source image. Similar image on Wikimedia Commons. Here’s a similar Roman sculpture. On the Kassel Apollo sculpture, Simon (2021 / 1969) pp. 162-3.

(2) The infant Apollo with his mother Leto and his infant sister Artemis. Marble sculpture made by Francesco Pozzi in 1824. Preserved in the Sculpture Gallery, Chatsworth House (Derbyshire, England). Source image thanks to Daderot and Wikimedia Commons. Latona was the Roman equivalent of the Greek goddess Leto. According to the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, vv. 14-6, Artemis was born in Ortygia, and Apollo in Delos. Hence Artemis and Apollo weren’t twins. Pindar, Nemean Odes 9.4-5 describes Leto’s twins who keep watch over Pytho (the ancient name for Delos). Leto’s twins in these verses of Pindar clearly refer to Artemis and Apollo.

(3) Relief on top of the Lion Gate at the main entrance to the citadel of Mycenae in Southern Greece. Made about 1250 BGC. Source image thanks to Zde and Wikimedia Commons. The relief plausibly honors the goddess Hera, the primary deity of the Mycenaeans:

The mighty pillar, surrounded by powerful lions gazing out over the countryside, would be a most worthy image of {Hera,} the queen of Olympus and mistress of the Argive plain.

Simon (2021 / 1969) p. 68. On representing Hera by a plank / pillar, id. pp. 63-8.

(4) Relief of Hera, Lady-Lord of Animals / Potnia Theron {Πότνια Θηρῶν}. Relief on pithos {πίθος}, a large ancient Greek storage container, made about 625-600 BGC on the Cyclades, which are islands in the Aegean Sea. The central island of the Cyclades is Delos, the birthplace of Apollo according to the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. This pithos was found in Thebes, the most important city of ancient Boeotia. It’s preserved as NAMA 355 in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens. Source image thanks to Zde and Wikimedia Commons. Here are other images of Boeotian pithos NAMA 355.

This relief is best interpreted as depicting Hera, the supreme goddess of ancient Boeotia. The pithos showing it was probably used in cultic worship of Hera. Kardara (1960) pp. 347-53, Simon (2021 / 1969) pp. 58-61. The relief suggests survival of artistic motifs from the vanished ancient Mycenaean civilization that produced the Lion Gate:

The lions on this relief are unlike all other eighth and seventh century lions. They are linked with the lions of the Lion Gate; besides being placed heraldically, they stand on their hind legs, and have both forelegs on a higher level. This type is a sporadic survival of the Lion Gate type. It can be explained as a hieratic survival.

Kardara (1960) p. 347. Hera has similarities with the ancient Mesopotamian goddesses Inana / Inanna and Ishtar, but these latter goddesses were more sympathetic and loving toward men.

(5) Colossal head of Hera (Hera / Juno Ludovisi). Marble sculpture piece from the first century GC. Preserved as Inv. 8631 in National Roman Museum of the Altemps Palace (Rome, Italy). This head is from a colossal statue apparently representing as Hera / Juno the eminent Antonia Minor, daughter of Octavia Minor and Mark Antony and mother of the Roman Emperor Claudius. Source image by Henk Bekker, who made it available under a Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Here’s another photo of the Hera / Juno Ludovisi.

Goethe described the Juno Ludovisi, which he saw in Rome, as “my first love in Rome {erste Liebschafft in Rom}.” He placed a plastic cast of the Juno Judovisi in his apartment. Goethe declared:

One must consider as a blessing to have it constantly before one’s eyes, for none of our contemporaries who stands before it for the first time can claim to be equal to this sight.

{ man es für ein Glück achten mußte, sie immerwährend vor Augen zu haben; denn keiner unsrer Zeitgenossen, der zum erstenmal vor sie hintritt, darf behaupten, diesem Anblick gewachsen zu sein. }

Goethe (1816-7), Report for April, 1788. The quote “erste Liebschafft in Rom” is from id., notes for 6 January, 1787. Goethe used the same phrase in his letter to Christoph Ludwig Friedrich Schultz on 8 March 1824. He further explained about this image of the goddess Hera / Juno:

I was astonished to the point of fright, as the sublime, unique divine image confronted me. Now I see it again daily, and always with a new impression.

{ erstaunt ich zum Erschrecken, so trat mir das erhabene einzige Götterbild entgegen. Nun seh ich es wieder täglich und immer wieder mit neuem Eindruck. }

Id. Goethe’s relation to the Hera / Juno Ludovisi is a stark instance of gyno-idolatry.

(6) Lernaean Hydra, an ancient Greek monster. Painting on a terracotta hydria made in Caere, Etruria, about 520-510 BGC. Painting attributed to the Eagle Painter. Preserved as accession # 83.AE.346 in the J. Paul Getty Museum (Los Angeles, USA). Source image via J. Paul Getty Museum and Wikimedia Commons.

The Learnaean Hydra is the daughter of the monsters Typhon and Echidna. Echidna is a half-woman, half-snake monster. A Corinthian aryballos from the first quarter of the sixth century BGC shows Athena helping Heracles to slay the Lernaean Hydra. As the Corinthian aryballos indicates, both women and men can contribute to slaying monsters. The Corinthian aryballos is preserved as object # 92.AE.4 in the J. Paul Getty Museum (Los Angelos, USA).

(7) Apollo Belvedere, Roman marble sculpture of Apollo. Made about 120-140 GC after Greek original made by Leochares between 330 and 320 BGC. Preserved as inventory # 1015 in Vatican Museum (Rome, Italy). Source image thanks to Livioandronico2013 and Wikimedia Commons. Here are many more images of the Apollo Belvedere, as well as historical images. The Apollo Belvedere suffered from castration culture. The injury to his testicle and penis was obscured with a fig leaf.

(8) Apollo after slaying the serpent Delphyne. Marble sculpture made in 1591 by Pietro Francavilla. Preserved as accession # 27.302 in the Walters Art Museum. Credit: Acquired by Henry Walters. Source image thanks to the Walters. That image is also available on Wikimedia Commons. The Walters identifies this sculpture as Apollo victorious over Python. It seems to me better identified as Apollo victorious over the female serpent Delphyne.

(9) Dancing man joyfully leading a chorus. Illustration on a black-figure aryballos / olpe from Corinth, Greece. Made about 580-570 BGC. Except from photo shared under CC BY-NC-SA by Egisto Sani on flickr. The aryballos is inscribed:

Polyterpos. Pyrvias (Pyrrhias) leading the chorus, and to him himself an olpe.

{ πολυτερπός Πυρϝίας προχορευόμενος αὐτὸ (αὐτῷ) δέ ϝοι ὄλπα }

Roebuck & Roebuck (1955) p. 160. This aryballos depicts “a formal chorus of boys who were competing in a dancing contest as part of a festival.” Id. p. 163.

(10) Apollo Belvedere, with his terrible castration injury deliberately obscured with a fig leaf. Detail from photograph made between 1880 and 1904 and preserved as object # RP-F-00-5345-50 in Rijksmuseum (Amsterdam, Netherlands). Source image via Wikimedia Commons.

(11) Apollo Belvedere, with castration revealed. Detail from image thanks to Livioandronico2013 and Wikimedia Commons.

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Slater, Philip E. 1968. The Glory of Hera: Greek Mythology and the Greek Family. Boston, MA: Beacon Press.

Spelman, Henry L. 2020. “The View from Olympus: The Muses’ Song in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo.” The Classical Quarterly. 70 (1): 1–9.

West, Martin L., ed. and trans. 2003. Homeric Hymns. Homeric Apocrypha. Lives of Homer. Loeb Classical Library 496. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Review by R. Garner.

Zeitlin, Froma I. 2023. The Retrospective Muse: Pathways through Ancient Greek Literature and Culture. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.