Argonautica - Part I - Epic Storytelling in the Age of Heroes

Beginning with thee, O Phoebus, I will recount the famous deeds of men of old, who, at the behest of King Pelias, down through the mouth of Pontus and between the Cyanean rocks, sped well-benched Argo in quest of the golden fleece. (Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica)

Thus begins one of the most famous and influential stories to come out of ancient Greece. The story of Jason and the Argonauts has captured peoples’ imaginations for ages, and to this day it is held up as the supreme example of ancient epic.

Today, the story has been retold in cartoons, comics, movies, and television adaptations. Its grip on the popular psyche is firm, and its archetypes reverberate throughout western culture.

The Argonautica isn’t just another fanciful story, it’s a well thought-out tale, carefully crafted, enriched with geographic, ethnographic, and religious details that other ancient stories lack.

And to the ancient world, this WAS history! The lines of this tale are a who’s who of gods, goddesses and heroes whom the reader (or listener) meets in unusually candid moments.

Before I go any further, I have a confession to make.

Until just a few weeks ago, I had never read the text of the Argonautica.

Like most people, I suspect, my knowledge of the tale of Jason and the Argonauts came from popular movies, mainly the Ray Harryhausen and Hallmark productions of Jason and the Argonauts. Those two film and television movies were fantastically entertaining and I highly recommend them both.

However, they differ from the original text in many ways.

In this series of blog posts, I’m going to talk a bit about my experience reading the Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes, what elements stand out for me, and how it differs from the popular image of the story.

Before we get started, who was Apollonius of Rhodes?

A Hellenistic Bestseller

Apollonius was actually born in Ptolemaic Alexandria sometime between 296 and 260 B.C. He was a student of Callimachus, a famed poet and scholar at the Library of Alexandria.

Alexandria, during the Hellenistic age, was the centre of the world as far as education, research and the scholarly pursuits. Anyone who was anyone wanted to be there.

Apollonius composed and recited the Argonautica when he was a youth in Alexandria. Unfortunately, the poem was condemned on the Alexandrian scene, and some say that Callimachus was one of its slanderers, for he and his student, Apollonius, had a massive falling out.

Alexandria's Canopic Way

In Alexandria, it seemed that poetics was much more highly regarded than epics, which is what the Argonautica is. Kind of like the battle today between literary and genre fiction. Apollonius probably couldn’t stand his academic critics any longer, and so he moved to Rhodes where the Argonautica received much acclamation.

From then on, Apollonius considered himself a Rhodian.

Some other sources say that later in life, he returned to Alexandria where the poem received the credit it deserved, and that he even became head of the Alexandrian Library.

Like many writers, Apollonius had his own sources, oral and written, for his story. It seems that he may have drawn mainly on Pindar’s fourth Pythian Ode. But that is a much shorter work than the Argonautica.

Being from a more academic school, Apollonius did a lot of research and indeed he had access to a lot of sources in Alexandria.

When I set out to read the Argonautica, my main question was this: How does it differ from the modern film and television interpretations that had captivated me so?

I had my answer almost right away. It’s quite different.

Pelias in the Wings

Pelias

The movies (film and TV) make much of the murder of Jason’s father, his fostering with Chiron the centaur, and of his return to Thessalian Iolclus to reclaim his birthright from his treacherous uncle, Pelias. He shows up at Pelias’ court wearing one sandal, fulfilling the prophecy Pelias so fears.

Argonautica makes very little of these things. There is only passing reference. The same is true of Pelias’ obsession with the Golden Fleece; in the Argonautica the search for the Fleece is more of an impossible task that Pelias hopes will end in Jason’s death, so that he never comes back to Iolclus.

Pelias’ real motive is to destroy Jason, not to obtain the Golden Fleece.

A Ship Full of Heroes

As with most ancient and medieval heroic epics, there is a list of the men involved at the beginning of the Argonautica. But this is no ordinary list of heroes, and Apollonius gives not just the names of the men, but also their lineage and deeds.

Some of the Argonauts

I won’t go through all fifty-odd names but there are some you might recognize…

First mentioned is Orpheus, the son of the Muse, Calliope. There is Polyphemus who had fought bravely in the war between the Lapiths and Centaurs, and Erytus and Echion the sons of Hermes. Mopsus is there to play a role, as he learned augury from Apollo himself.

Peleus, the father of Achilles, is a part of the crew, as well as Telamon and Argus, the ship builder whom the Argo is named after and who received help from the goddess Athena in building it.

Phlias the son of Dionysus is there, and Nauplius, Erginus, and Ancaeus, all three the sons of Poseidon.

Brian Thompson as Hercules
Hallmark production

Most famously of all perhaps, is that Herakles is a part of the crew. He is accompanied by his good friend and bow-carrier, Hylas. Other sons of Zeus that are there include Polydeuces and Castor from Sparta; they are the Dioscouri, or the Gemini, who were later remembered in the stars. Their mother is Leda.

Augeias, the son of Helios, Lernus, the son of Hephaestus, and Zetes and Calais, the sons of the wind Boreas, are all a part of the crew too. Jason is also joined by Acastus, the son of Pelias. Much is made of the latter in the movies, but in the Argonautica he is one of the lesser characters.

These are just a few of the heroes who make up the crew of the Argo. You can see that their lineage is nothing to spit at, and it’s no wonder the people of Iolclus (modern-day Volos) are in awe of them as they assemble on the strand beside Argo where they “shone like gleaming stars among the clouds”.

Iolclus - modern Volos, Greece

This is a story of the glory of youth, and of valour. When these heroes are setting out, there is a sense of excitement, anticipation, and of danger. The men are keen, but the women of Iolclus are weeping and praying to the gods, foreshadowing the potential doom.

The thing that really strikes me, and perhaps this is the genius of it, is that among all these heroes who are proven in battle and skill, divine descendants or not, Jason seems to be the only one (apart from Acastus) with no deeds to his name.

Jason is youth. Though he is surrounded by proven men, Argonautica, to my mind, is mainly about his own personal hero’s journey.

When all the supplies are loaded and the expedition is ready to sail, Jason turns to the men and says that all that remains is to choose a leader:

…and the young heroes turned their eyes towards bold Herakles sitting in their midst, and with one shout they all enjoined upon him to be their leader; but he, from the place where he sat, stretched forth his right hand and said: “Let no one offer this honour to me. For I will not consent, and I will forbid any other to stand up. Let the hero who brought us together, himself be the leader of the host.” Thus he spake with high thoughts, and they assented, as Herakles bade; and warlike Jason himself rose up, glad at heart… (Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica)

As is common throughout the tale, the heroes pay their respects to the gods, in this case Apollo, by sacrificing and building an altar before finally leaving the land of Hellas behind.

Lemnian Women are Lovely

Hypsipyle

Apollonius displays his knowledge of geography, detailing the sights that the crew sees as they sail east, past the peninsula of Athos and the Thracian coast on the way to their first port – Lemnos. 

The episode on Lemnos is one that popular retellings often include. It is the island of Queen Hypsipyle who, along with all her female subjects, has killed all the men. But that is where the commonalities between the Argonautica and Hollywood end.

In popular culture, Hypsipyle and her women are demonized, portrayed as savage man-haters who seek to trick and kill the Argonauts.

However, Apollonius portrays the Lemnian women as more sympathetic. Turns out they killed their war-mongering husbands who shunned them all in favour of the slaves they had taken on raids. The Lemnian women live in fear of retribution if word should get out as to what happened to their men – they do all the work required to live, including ploughing the fields.

When the Argonauts arrive, Hypsipyle welcomes them, offering food and supplies so that they can leave the island. They have no wish to kill the Argonauts. Hypsipyle falls in love with Jason and wonders if she could get him and his crew to stay so that they could have children again, and be protected against the Thracians.

The Argonauts linger for a time until Herakles chides them for hanging about with women instead of pursuing their quest. Jason decides they should leave and tells Hypsipyle that should she have a son by him, she should send him to Iolclus to be raised by his own parents, both of whom are still alive.

It’s actually a touching parting, without animosity, and the Argonauts set sail once more.

Stay tuned for the next post as we continue our epic journey through the Argonautica.

Thank you for reading. 

In Insula Avalonia - Glastonbury Abbey

Springtime, as elusive as it is this year in Toronto, always reminds me of Glastonbury.

From my days In Insula Avalonia, I can still recall refreshing walks along the crest of Wearyall Hill, along the dragon’s back of the Tor, and down Paradise Lane through the squelching mud to the giants, Gog and Magog.

Spring is still a time of rejuvenation in this place. After the rains have stopped, the magpies and blackbirds are out, flitting from fence post to hedge row, squawking at passers by.

Everywhere you look, snow drops and bluebells are peaking out of the ground in satisfying clusters, the dew still thick on their tiny flowers if you happen to be out in the morning.

Nestled between Wearyall Hill, Chalice Hill, and the Tor, is another sanctuary – Glastonbury Abbey.

Model in the Abbey Museum

The Abbey grounds, like other sancturaries in town, are a place to get away to. You have to pay to get in, but once you walk through the arch, past another desendent of the Holy Thorn, and onto the green lawns surrounding these magnificent ruins, you are set to experience a whole new aspect of Glastonbury.

The ruins of what was once one of the largest abbeys in England rise up from the soft ground, sentry-still, surrounded by mist. ‘Majestic’ is a word I would use to describe the ruins, and ‘sad’. When you see the model of what the place looked like at its height of power and prominence, you understand.

Glastonbury abbey was not always such a soaring monument of Christianity. The lovely ruins that can be seen today are a medieval creation, the remains of which date from the twelfth to sixteenth centuries. But the place itself is said to be the site of the first Christian church and oldest religious foundation in the British Isles.

According to tradition, Joseph of Arimathea and his followers built a wattle church on the site on land he was given by the local king, Arviragus, around the middle of the first century A.D.

Circa A.D. 160, two Christians named Faganus and Deruvianus are supposed to have added a stone structure on the site of what is the Lady Chapel. It is here that there is an ancient well dedicated to St. Joseph.

The Lady Chapel c.1900

In the early days of Christianity in Britain, this first chapel and the well were the predecessors of the magnificent ruins of the abbey we see today. The Lady Chapel was the site of the first Marian cult in Britain, and in the words of Geoffrey Ashe “there is no rival tradition whatsoever. When all of the fantastic mists have dispersed, ‘Our Lady St. Mary of Glastonbury’ remains a time-hallowed title.”

In one of the Welsh Triads, Glastonbury is given the distinction of having a ‘perpetual choir’.

It was a place that Christians gravitated to. Indeed, several Celtic saints are said to have come here, including St. Bridget, St. David, St. Columba, and even St. Patrick whom some stories name as the first abbot of Glastonbury.

Walking the grounds of Glastonbury Abbey is a contemplative activity, like so many other spots In Insula Avalonia.

Abbey Cloisters

It is supremely peaceful and there are all manner of flora in the gardens to add to the calm. Great trees shiver overhead when a breeze blows into town from across the Somerset levels.

You can stroll the scant remains of the cloisters and up the nave with the abbey’s stone titans looming over you. In a couple spots, you can lift a wooden cover to reveal some of the colourful tiles of the abbey floor.

And then toward the transept you come to an unassuming outline in the grass with a plaque marking it. This is where you meet with one of Glastonbury Abbey’s most mysterious connections.  

Floor Tiles

In 1184 a fire ravaged the abbey and the monks needed to rebuild. Around the time of the fire, a Welsh bard is supposed to have revealed to King Henry II that King Arthur himself was buried within the abbey grounds.

The king passed this information on to the Abbot of Glastonbury who later ordered excavations to be carried out. In 1191, it is said that the monks found the bones of a man and a woman in a hollowed out tree trunk who were none other than Arthur, and his queen, Guinevere.

With the remains was a lead cross with the words ‘Hic Jiacet Sepultus Inclytus Rex Arturius in Insula Avallonia’ which translates as ‘Here lies buried the renowned King Arthur in the Isle of Avalon’.

The Arthur Cross

The Elizabethan antiquarian, William Camden, did a sketch of the Arthur cross in the early 17^th century.

A lot of doubt has been cast on the monks’ discovery with many believing that it was a hoax created by the monks to boost tourism through pilgrimage. The remains were treated as relics and later moved within the abbey during the reign of Edward I in the early 13^th century.

It is important to note that the archaeologist who excavated the abbey in the 1960s, Dr. Ralegh Radford, indicated that the monks’ story might not have been that far-fetched, and that there was indeed a person of great import from the correct period buried in the graveyard just south of the Lady Chapel.

The Abbot's Kitchen

As with all things In Insula Avalonia, belief is always a part of the great equation.

There are other buildings associated with the abbey too, including the Abbot’s Kitchen where the Benedictine brothers would have prepared meals, and the Abbey Barn which is now home to the Somerset Rural Life Museum.

The site is lovely and inspiring. Tradition on the abbey grounds goes back ages to the very roots of Christianity in Britain and beyond.

As I would sit on a bench, listening to the birds and the breeze, gazing upon the ruins, I would imagine St. Joseph arriving with his followers and picking out the spot for that first chapel. Perhaps they had something in common with the druids and priestesses of the goddess who might have already been there? Perhaps a common yearning for peace and truth?

It is sad that Henry VIII robbed us of the physical beauty of Glastonbury Abbey in the great Dissolution. The last abbot was dragged to the top of the Tor and beheaded by the King’s henchman, Cromwell.

For this place to function peacefully and unmolested from its earliest time, through Saxon incursions and Norman invasions, speaks to its agreed importance over the ages.

The majesty of this place may lie in ruins now, but its spirit and mystery certainly remain intact.

Thank you for reading.

To learn more about Glastonbury Abbey, visit the Abbey website HERE.

Medicus! – Physicians in the Roman Empire

Going to the doctor’s office is never something one looks forward to.

For most, me included, it gets the heart rate and stress levels up to step into a building that’s full of ‘sick people’.

Sitting around in a waiting room with a group of scared, nervous, fidgety folks, is enough to drive you mad, and the sight of a white coat and stethoscope makes one want to run screaming from the building.

It was probably the same for our ancient Greek and Roman ancestors. Most civilians would have been loath to visit with a physician. It might not have been someone you wanted around, in case they looked at you and thought your colour was a little off.

‘Oh dear. That cough doesn’t sound good, my dear Septimius!’

Not so for the soldiers in the field.

I’m not an expert in ancient medical history, but I do know that the level of injury on an ancient battlefield would have been staggering. The sight or sound of your unit’s medicus would have been something sent from the gods themselves.

Imagine a clash of armies – thousands of men wielding swords, spears and daggers at close quarters. Then lob some volleys of arrows into the chaos. Perhaps a charge of heavy cavalry? How about heavy artillery bolts or boulders slamming into massed ranks of men?

Forceps

It would have been one big, bloody, savage mess.

Apart from the usual cuts, slashes, and puncture wounds, the warriors would have suffered shattered bones, fractured skulls, lost limbs, severed arteries, sword, spear and arrow shafts that pushed through armour on into organs.

If you weren’t dead right away, you most likely would have been a short time later.

This is where the ancient field medic could have made the difference for an army. He would have been going through numerous patients in a short period of time. He would have had to decide who was a lost cause, who could no longer fight, and who could be patched up before being sent back out onto the field of slaughter.

The medicus of a Roman legion was an unsung hero whose skill was a product of accumulated centuries of knowledge, study, and experience.

Asklepios and Igeia

Many of the physicians in the Roman Empire were Greek, and that’s because Greece was where western medicine was born. Indeed, the ancient Greeks had patron gods of health and healing in the form of Asklepios, Igeia, and sometimes Apollo.

The greatest medical school of the ancient world was in fact on the Aegean island of Cos, where students came from all over the Mediterranean world to learn at the great Asklepion. Hippocrates himself, the 5^th century B.C. ‘father of medicine’, was from Cos and said to be a descendant of the god Asklepios himself.

When it comes to Roman medicine, much of it is owed to what discoveries and theories the Greeks had developed before, but with a definite Roman twist.

Hippocrates

The fusion of Greek and Roman medicine in the Empire consisted of two parts: the scientific, and the religious/magical.

The more scientific thinking behind ancient medical practices is a legacy owed to the Greeks, who separated scientific learning from religion. The religious aspects of medicine in the Roman Empire were a Roman introduction.

Because of this fusion of ideas and beliefs, you could sometimes end up with an odd assortment of treatments being prescribed.

‘To alleviate your hypertension over your new business venture, you should take three drops of this tincture before you sleep. You should also sacrifice a white goat to Janus as soon as possible.’

Many Roman deities had some form of healing power so it depended on one’s patron gods, and the nature of the problem, as to which god would receive prayers or votive offerings over another. Amulets and other magical incantations would have been employed as well.

Ancient surgical instruments

Romans had a god for everything, and soldiers were especially superstitious.

Greek medical thought rejected the idea of divine intervention, opting more for practicallity in the treatment of wounds, and injuries; cleaning and bandaging wounds would have been more logical than putting another talisman about the neck.

All the gods were to be honoured, but in the Greek physician’s mind they had much better things to look after than the stab wound a man received in a Suburan tavern brawl.

For the battlefield medicus, things must have been much simpler than for the physician who was trying to diagnose mysterious ailments. They were faced mostly with physical wounds and employed all manner of surgical instruments such as probes, hooks, forceps, needles and scalpels.

Removing a barbed arrowhead from a warrior’s thigh must have required a little digging.

Of course, in the Roman world, there was no anaesthetic, so successful surgeons would have had to have been not only dexterous and accurate, but also very fast and strong. Luckily, sedatives such as opium and henbane would have helped.

When it came to the treatment of wounds, a medicus would have used wine, vinegar, pitch, and turpentine as antiseptics. However, infection and gangrene would have meant amputation. The latter was probably terrifyingly frequent for soldiers, many of whom would end up begging on the streets of Rome.

It is interesting to note that medicine was one of the few professions that were open to women in the Roman Empire. Female doctors, or medicae, would also have been mainly of Greek origin, and either working with male doctors, or as midwives specializing in childbirth and women’s diseases and disorders. When it came to the army however, most doctors would have been male.

Shears

Army surgeons played a key role in spreading and improving Roman medical practice, especially in the treatment of wounds and other injuries. They also helped to gather new treatments from all over the Empire, and disseminated medical knowledge wherever the Legions marched. Many of the herbs and drugs that were used in the Empire were acquired by medics who were on campaign in foreign lands.

Early on, physicians did not enjoy high status. There was no standardized training and many were Greek slaves or freedmen. This did  begin to improve however when in 46 B.C. Julius Caesar granted citizenship to all those doctors who were working in the city of Rome.

This last point really hits home when it has become common knowledge that foreign doctors who come to our own countries today find themselves driving taxis or buses because they are not allowed to practice.

Modern governments, take your cue from Caesar!

Galen of Pergamon

One of the most famous physicians of the Roman Empire is Galen of Pergamon (A.D. 129-c.199). Galen was a Greek physician and writer who was educated at the sanctuary of Asklepios at Pergamon in Asia Minor.

After working in various cities around the Empire, Galen returned to his home town to become the doctor at the local ludus, or gladiatorial school. He grew tired of that work and moved to Rome in A.D. 162 where he gained a reputation among the elite. He subsequently became the personal physician of the Emperors Marcus Aurelius, Commodus, and for a short time, Septimius Severus.

Galen’s work and writings provided the basis of medical teaching and practice on into the seventeenth century. No doubt many an army medicus referred to Galen’s work at one point or another.

Ancient surgical instruments

I’ve but barely scratched the vast surface of this topic.

For some, there is this assumption that ancient medicine was somehow false, crude and barbaric. The truth is that modern western medicine owes much to the Greeks and Romans, civilian and military, who travelled the Empire caring for their troops and gathering what knowledge and knowhow they could.

The fusion of science, religious practice, and magic provides for a fascinating mix. In truth, medical practices in medieval Europe might have been more barbaric that their ancient predecessors.

Thank you for reading, and may Asklepios, Igeia and Apollo grant you good health!

12th century medieval fresco of
Galen and Hippocrates talking