LP0022 - Semele and Pasiphae - Philostratus the Elder's Imagines -

Legendary Passages #0022 - Semele and Pasiphae- Philostratus the Elder's Imagines -

Last time we heard many stories of the Cretans. This time we shall hear about paintings describing Semele, Ariadne, Pasiphae, and Hippodameia.

The passage begins with a painting of Semele, daughter of Cadmus and mother of Dionysus. Thunder and Lightning, known as Brotes and Astrape, illuminate the skies above the house of Cadmus, in the form a pillar of fire. Semele had asked Zeus to reveal his true form, and he blazes like fallen star. Symbols of Dionysys abound: Ivy and grapevines and the thyrsus sprout from the conflagration.

Second is a painting of Ariadne sleeping on a rocky island shore. On the horizon is the ship of Theseus, leaving her behind. Dionysus approaches, bearing tiny horns and wearing a simple crown of ivy and roses. The god is young man overcome with love, while Theseus is focused on distant Athens, his love forgotten.

Third is a depiction of the mother of Ariadne, Queen Pasiphae. She is outside the workshop of Daedalus, filled with bronze figures that seem to walk about. Daedalus is depicted as having great wisdom and intelligence, and dressed as an Athenian. Before him is the wooden cow, fashioned aid the queen in her unnatural union. Little Cupids assist him in the construction, drilling and measuring and sawing to and fro. Pasiphae takes no notice of them, all of her attention is on the Cretan Bull. It is white with spectacular horns, and ignoring her beauty for that of a black and white cow.

Last is picture of Hippodameia, daughter of Oenomaus, King of Arcadia. Suiters for her hand would have to beat the King in chariot racing, and should they lose, they die. Thirteen have died, before Pelops, with the aid of Myrtilus, survived the contest and married Hippodameia. The scene is the end of that fatal race. The King's four horse chariot destroyed by sabotage, the black horses enraged, unlike the white horses of Pelops. That youth had gained the favor of Poesiedon for his beauty, and the god had given him horses and chariot that could run on water. Pelops and Hippodaemia stand victorious, about to embrace. Thirteen graves of dead suitors are verdant mounds of wildflowers, celebrating the death of Oenomaus.

Next time we shall hear descriptions of the stars and heavens, including the Crown of Ariadne, also known as Corona Borealis.

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Semele and Pasiphae,
a Legendary Passage,
from Philostratus the Elder's Imagines,
translated by Arthur Fairbanks.

Describing a painting of SEMELE

Bronte, stern of face, and Astrape flashing light from her eyes, and raging fire from heaven that has laid hold of a king's house, suggest the following tale, if it is one you know.

A cloud of fire encompassing Thebes breaks into the dwelling of Cadmus as Zeus comes wooing Semele; and Semele apparently is destroyed, but Dionysus is born, by Zeus, so I believe, in the presence of the fire.

And the form of Semele is dimly seen as she goes to the heavens, where the Muses will hymn her praises: but Dionysus leaps forth as his mother's womb is rent apart and he makes the flame look dim, so brilliantly does he shine like a radiant star. The flame, dividing, dimly outlines a cave for Dionysus more charming than any in Assyria and Lydia; for sprays of ivy grow luxuriantly about it and clusters of ivy berries and now grape-vines and stalks of thyrsus which spring up from the willing earth, so that some grow in the very fire.

We must not be surprised if in honour of Dionysus the Fire is crowned by the Earth, for the Earth will take part with the Fire in the Bacchic revel and will make it possible for the revelers to take wine from springs and to draw milk from clods of earth or from a rock as from living breasts.

Listen to Pan, how he seems to be hymning Dionysus on the crests of Cithaeron, as he dances an Evian fling. And Cithaeron in the form of a man laments the woes soon to occur on his slopes, and he wears an ivy crown aslant on his head – for he accepts the crown most unwillingly – and Megaera causes a fir to shoot up beside him and brings to light a spring of water, in token, I fancy, of the blood of Actaeon and of Pentheus.

Describing a painting of ARIADNE

That Theseus treated Ariadne unjustly – though some say not with unjust intent, but under the compulsion of Dionysus – when he abandoned her while asleep on the island of Dia, you must have heard from your nurse; for those women are skilled in telling such tales and they weep over them whenever they will. I do not need to say that it is Theseus you see there on the ship and Dionysus yonder on the land, nor will I assume you to be ignorant and call your attention to the woman on the rocks, lying there in gentle slumber.

Nor yet is it enough to praise the painter for things for which someone else too might be praised; for it is easy for anyone to paint Ariadne as beautiful and Theseus as beautiful; and there are countless characteristics of Dionysus for those who wish to represent him in painting or sculpture, by depicting which even approximately the artist has captured the god.

For instance, the ivy clusters forming a crown are the clear mark of Dionysus, even if the workmanship is poor; and a horn just springing from the temples reveals Dionysus, and a leopard, though but just visible, is a symbol of the god; but this Dionysus the painter has characterized by love alone. Flowered garments and thyrsi and fawn-skins have been cast aside as out of place for the moment, and the Bacchantes are not clashing their cymbals now, nor are the Satyrs playing the flute, nay, even Pan checks his wild dance that he may not disturb the maiden's sleep.

Having arrayed himself in fine purple and wreathed his head with roses, Dionysus comes to the side of Ariadne, “drunk with love” as the Teian poet says of those who are overmastered by love. As for Theseus, he is indeed in love, but with the smoke rising from Athens, and he no longer knows Ariadne, and never knew her, and I am sure that he has even forgotten the labyrinth and could not tell on what possible errand he sailed to Crete, so singly is his gaze fixed on what lies ahead of his prow.

And look at Ariadne, or rather at her sleep; for her bosom is bare to the waist, and her neck is bent back and her delicate throat, and all her right armpit is visible, but the left hand rests on her mantle that a gust of wind may not expose her. How fair a sight, Dionysus, and how sweet her breath! Whether its fragrance is of apples or of grapes, you can tell after you have kissed her!

Describing a painting of PASIPHAË

Pasiphaë is in love with the bull and begs Daedalus to devise some lure for the creature; and he is fashioning a hollow cow like a cow of the herd to which the bull is accustomed. What their union brought forth is shown by the form of the Minotaur, strangely composite in its nature.

Their union is not depicted here, but this is the workshop of Daedalus; and about it are statues, some with forms blocked out, others in a quite complete state in that they are already stepping forward and give promise of walking about. Before the time of Daedalus, you know, the art of making statues had not yet conceived such a thing. Daedalus himself is of the Attic type in that his face suggests great wisdom and that the look of the eye is so intelligent; and his very dress also follows the Attic style; for he wears this dull coarse mantle and also he is painted without sandals, in a manner peculiarly affected by the Athenians.

He sits before the framework of the cow and he uses Cupids [Erotes] as his assistants in the device so as to connect with it something of Aphrodite. Of the Cupids, my boy, those are visible who turn the drill, and those by Zeus that smooth with the adze portions of the cow which are not yet accurately finished, and those that measure off the symmetrical proportions on which craftsmanship depends. But the Cupids that work with the saw surpass all conception and all skill in drawing and colour. For look! The saw has attacked the wood and is already passing through it, and these Cupids keep it going, one on the ground, another on the staging, both straightening up and bending forward in turn. Let us consider this movement to be alternate; one has bent low as if about to rise up, his companion has risen erect as if about to bend over; the one on the ground draws his breath into his chest, and the one who is aloft fills his lungs down to his belly as he presses both hands down on the saw.

Pasiphaë outside the workshop in the cattlefold gazes on the bull, thinking to draw him to her by her beauty and by her robe, which is divinely resplendent and more beautiful than any rainbow. She has a helpless look – for she knows what the creature is that she loves – and she is eager to embrace it, but takes no notice of her and gazes at its own cow. The bull is depicting with proud mien, the leader of the herd, with splendid horns, white, already experienced in love, its dewlap low and its neck massive, and it gazes fondly at the cow; but the cow in the herd, ranging free and all white but for a black head, disdains the bull. For its purpose suggests a leap, as of a girl who avoids the importunity of a lover.

Describing a painting of HIPPODAMEIA

Here is consternation over Oenomaus the Arcadian; these are men who shout a warning for him – for perhaps you can hear them – and the scene is Arcadia and a portion of the Peloponnesus. The chariot lies shattered through a trick of Myrtilus. It is a four-horse chariot; for though men were not yet bold enough to use the quadriga in war, yet in the games it was known and prized, and the Lydians also, a people most devoted to horses, drove four abreast in the time of Pelops and already used chariots, and at a later time devised the chariot with four poles and, it is said, were the first to drive eight horses abreast.

Look, my boy, at the horses of Oenomaus, how fierce they are and keen to run, full of rage and covered with foam – you will find such horses especially among the Arcadians – and how black they are, harnessed as they were for a monstrous and accursed deed. But look at the horse of Pelops, how white they are, obedient to the rein, comrades as they are of Persuasion, neighing gently and as if aware of the coming victory.

And look at Oenomaus, how like he is to the Thracian Diomedes as he lies there, a barbarian and savage of aspect. But as to Pelops, on the other hand, you will not, I think, be inclined to doubt that Poseidon once on a time fell in love with him for his beauty when he was wine-pourer for the gods on Mount Sipylus, and because of his love set him, though still a youth, upon this chariot. The chariot runs over the sea as easily as on land, and not even a drop of water ever splashes on its axle, but the sea, firm as the earth itself, supports the horses.

As for the race, Pelops and Hippodameia are the victors, both standing on the chariot and there joining hands; but they are so conquered by each other that they are on the point of embracing one another. He is dressed in the delicate Lydian manner, and is of such youth and beauty as you noticed a moment ago when he was begging Poseidon for his horses; and she is dressed in a wedding garment and has just unveiled her cheek, now that she has won the right to a husband’s embrace. Even the Alpheius leaps from his eddy to pluck a crown of wild olive for Pelops as he drives along the bank of the river.

The mounds along the race-course mark the graves of the suitors by whose death Oenomaus postponed his daughter’s marriage, thirteen youths in all. But the earth now causes flowers to spring up on their graves, that they too may share the semblance of being crowned on the occasion of Oenomaus’ punishment.

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