The hero was acclaimed as the founder of Athenian democracy. Instead of ruling the people himself, he allowed them to rule themselves. He was a wise and beloved king, the patron of culture. During his reign, skilled artisans and thinkers from throughout Greece moved to Athens to work under his patronage. Things in Athens were happy and prosperous; the Cretans no longer demanded tribute. With affairs in order in his realm, Theseus set out for more adventures.
He went on an expedition against the fierce female warriors, the Amazons,* and sailed with Jason in search of the Golden Fleece. Theseus’s loyalty to his friends was well known. When Herakles [Hercules] went mad and killed his wife and children, Theseus alone defended him—possibly the world’s first insanity defense. Theseus even gave asylum to the aged Oedipus.
His aid to Oedipus, however, brings to mind a sad irony in Theseus’s own life. Theseus was married to Phaedra, Ariadne’s sister; he also had a handsome son named Hippolytus by an earlier marriage. Phaedra fell hopelessly in love with Hippolytus and repeatedly tried to seduce him. This came about because Hippolytus’s looks had attracted the affections of the goddess Aphrodite, but he was a devotee of the perpetually virgin hunt goddess Artemis and so he was not interested in sex. Hippolytus’s appreciation of Artemis’s patronage angered the jealous Aphrodite, who now vowed to destroy him. It is said that Aphrodite caused Phaedra to fall in love with Hippolytus.
As Phaedra continued to demand the affections of Hippolytus, the boy rebuffed her—it was not right to sleep with one’s stepmother. In despair, Phaedra hanged herself, leaving a suicide note claiming that Hippolytus had caused her death. When Theseus found the note, he was grieved and disgusted. He prepared to send Hippolytus into exile. When the boy protested that he had done nothing to harm his stepmother, Theseus refused to believe him. In his anger, Theseus rashly called on Poseidon, god of the sea, to destroy Hippolytus. As the boy set out on his journey, a sea creature came out of the water in front of his chariot. The horses were frightened and Hippolytus was fatally thrown from the vehicle.
The dying boy was brought before his father. The goddess Artemis herself appeared to Theseus to tell him that Hippolytus was innocent of any wrongdoing with regard to Phaedra. Artemis explained that Aphrodite had been behind the plot, and that Phaedra had been bewitched; that the jealous goddess had planned to destroy Hippolytus for spurning her as well as all other women in his devotion to chastity. Distraught, Theseus begged the gods for mercy.
The gods were merciful to a point. But Theseus, as justice would have it, later died by the treachery of a friend, because he had believed the lies of Phaedra and cursed his own innocent son.
HIAWATHA TARENYAWAGON
(Iroquois)
The actual Iroquois legend of Hiawatha bears no relation to the stories contained in Longfellow’s Song of Hiawatha. Longfellow’s work portrayed Hiawatha as a hero of the Algonquins, and not the Iroquois. Longfellow’s work was set in the Lake Superior region, while the actual Iroquois homeland of Hiawatha was in central and western New York State. The myths retold by Longfellow were actually stories of the Algonquin deity Michabo.
The myth of Hiawatha is a wonderful example of the “civic myth,” documenting the founding of a nation. In this case, the nation is the Five Nation Confederacy of the Iroquois, whose system of government was studied by the American founding fathers in their formulation of the U.S. Constitution.
Tarenyawagon, the upholder of the heavens, was awakened from his slumber by the horrible cries of anguish from earth. The humans were murdering each other, fighting against terrible giants, and falling into anarchy and deep despair. Taking the form of a mortal man, Tarenyawagon came to earth, taking a little girl by the hand, leading a miserable band of the human refugees to a cave where he told them to sleep, as hope had returned to humanity.
When the people had rested, Tarenyawagon again took a little girl by the hand and led the people toward the rising sun, where they built a great lodge house. There they lived happily. The former refugees prospered and had many children. Tarenyawagon called the people together and then told them to form five great nations and scatter. A few families were separated from the group; they were called Tehawroga, “those of different speech.” From the moment that Tarenyawagon named them this, they began to speak a language different from the other people. To these “people of different speech,” the Mohawk nation, Tarenyawagon gave tobacco, squash, corn, and beans, and also dogs to help them hunt. He taught them to be great farmers and hunters. Then he left, again taking a little girl by the hand.
Again, he separated some of the families and took them to a beautiful valley. He named them the Nehawretago, the “tall tree people,” in honor of the fine forests in their new homeland. They also had their own separate language and became the Oneida nation.
Then, again taking a little girl by the hand, he led some families to a great mountain called Onondaga, which was the name of this new nation. They too began to speak their own language.
He separated more families, and taking another little girl by the hand, he took them to the lake called Goyoga, and the people became known as the Cayuga people.
There were now only a few families left, so Tarenyawagon took a little girl by the hand and led the families to another mountain called Canandaigua. This was to be the home of the people he named Tehonenoyent, the Seneca nation. Their name means “keepers of the door,” as they are the sentinels of the five nations.
Now why did Tarenyawagon take a little girl by the hand as he founded these nations? The Iroquois people of the Five Nations are a matriarchal society, where the most respected leaders are the old women. These girls grew up to be the leaders of their nations. It is through the mother that one inherits among the people of the Five Nations.
Some of the people left the land of the Five Nations and went far to the west to the river called the Mississippi,* from where they never returned. Separated by the great river, none of the Five Nations ever saw them again. But the Five Nations who remained in their homeland prospered.
Tarenyawagon gave each of the Five Nations its own particular gift. To the Onondaga was given the knowledge of the universal laws and the ability to understand the great Creator. To the Oneidas was given skill in making baskets and weapons. To the Mohawks was given great ability in hunting. Then Tarenyawagon went to live among the Onondaga people, where he took the name Hiawatha.
In the laws of the universe it is written that for every joy there must be a sorrow, for every darkness a light, and for every death a life. Even as the Five Nations lived in peace, the Wild People [the Algonquin tribes] came and attacked them from the northwest, out of the Great Lakes region. These people were not as civilized as the Five Nations and were a threat to all the people of Tarenyawagon.
So the Five Nations met together for a common defense. The people waited for three days for Hiawatha to come to lead them. On the fourth day he appeared in his magic birch canoe, accompanied by his daughter Mnihaha [the “Minihaha” of Longfellow], who was his child by an Onondaga wife. Hiawatha met with all the leaders of the Five Nations, greeted them as his brothers, and spoke each of their languages.
Out of heaven came a great noise like rushing water and thunder. Out of the clouds appeared the Great Mystery Bird of Heaven who then carried away Hiawatha’s daughter. He laid his hand on her head in blessing before he commended her to the Great Mystery Bird. Hiawatha was so saddened by her departure that he sat in silent mourning and meditation, wrapped in a panther skin, for three days. Hiawatha never explained this mystery to the people, but many old people say that the girl was given to God in exchange for peace.
After the mourning period had ended, Hiawatha purified himself in a clear lake and called the leaders of the Five Nations together. He told them that the Five Nations were to be as one nation forever. Never again would they act separately. The downfall of one nation would be the downfall of all, as the victory of one nation would be the victory of all. He told the people to choose the wis
est of their women to rule them.
The Onondagas were to be the warriors of the Iroquois. The Seneca were to speak on behalf of the Five Nations. The clever Cayuga were to be the guardians of the rivers, while the Mohawk would farm and hunt for all the tribes.
Then Hiawatha slipped into his magic birch canoe and rode into the sky.
THE MYTH OF SISYPHUS
(Greece)
A Modern Hero?
The French existentialist writer Albert Camus (1913-1960) saw the myth of Sisyphus as a model for the futile striving of human existence. Camus, an atheist, was on an anguished philosophical search for meaning. Without God and a myth-based culture, Camus saw nothing to give human life meaning—until he saw in this myth that futile striving itself can give life meaning, defying the certainty of death and even the futility of the striving itself.
Sisyphus was a wealthy Corinthian who defied the gods and even death.
Once Zeus spied the beautiful Aegina, daughter of the river god Asopus, and carried her off through the streets of Corinth. When her father asked the Corinthian townspeople about the incident, not one would speak to him, out of fear of the wrath of Zeus. However, the clever Sisyphus saw this as his golden opportunity and seized it.
One of the chief problems of Corinth at that time was that there was no water source within the city walls. The Corinthians tired of having to haul water long distances into their town. Sisyphus approached the river god and offered information on Aegina in exchange for water. If Asopus would cause a spring to bubble up within the city walls of Corinth, then Sisyphus would gladly tell all he knew of the abduction. Asopus agreed, Sisyphus talked, and a spring of sweet, fresh water bubbled out of the ground.
When Asopus was thus able to confront Zeus and demand the return of his daughter, the king of the gods was furious—he knew which Corinthian had talked. Zeus spoke to his brother, Hades, the lord of the dead, and the latter dispatched Death to collect Sisyphus.
When Death arrived in the world of the living, she became light-hearted upon being in the world above ground. Usually accustomed to being met with dread, she was dismayed when Sisyphus jovially invited her to sit down with him for food and drink. The two talked and joked. Then Sisyphus offered to show her a pair of handcuffs of his own making. Being in a playful mood, Death put them on. When time passed and the joke had worn off, it was apparent that Death had become the prisoner of Sisyphus.
With that the entire character of the universe changed. Hades received no new subjects. Nothing, neither plant nor animal nor human, died. With Death thus captive, the gods began to complain; without Death the world would be overpopulated. Death was one of the few certain controls that the gods had over mortal humans. Most outraged of all was the usually unpopular Ares, god of war, who complained bitterly that without Death there was simply no point to war: Soldiers slain on the battlefield leaped up to fight again.
Meanwhile, on earth, the humans rejoiced. They had quickly noticed that no one died. Feeling that they would all live forever, they went on a spree. There was one very miserable side effect, however: The very ill just remained very ill, without Death to relieve their miseries. Watching this, Zeus grew angrier still and dispatched Ares to free Death and seize Sisyphus. Ares did so, taking the soul of Sisyphus down to Hades.
But Sisyphus had not yet run out of tricks. He had instructed his wife not to bury his corpse when the gods had plucked out his soul. On his arrival in the realm of the dead, Sisyphus complained that he could not possibly be allowed to remain there, as his corpse was not properly buried, nor were the correct rites performed. Hearing this, Hades granted Sisyphus three days in which to set things in order. But after the three days had passed, it was clear that Sisyphus had no intention of returning to the land of the dead. The gods had been tricked again.
This time, Zeus wanted to see everything done properly, so he sent Hermes, the messenger of the gods, who was the usual guide of the dead to the Underworld. Hermes seized Sisyphus’s soul, buried his body with all the necessary rituals, and took the soul down to the Underworld.
Having bound Death and mocked the gods, Sisyphus was sentenced to spend eternity rolling a great rock up a steep hill, only to have it roll back down for him to perpetually repeat the futile ascent.
The following is taken from The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus, translated by Justin O’Brien. It was written in 1943, during a desperate time, when Camus’s native France was under Nazi occupation and things looked futile and dark.
The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor….
… If one believes [the Greek poet] Homer, Sisyphus was the wisest and most prudent of mortals. According to another tradition, however, he was disposed to practice the profession of highwayman. I see no contradiction in this. Opinions differ as to the reasons why he became the futile laborer of the underworld. To begin with, he is accused of a certain levity in regard to the gods. He stole their secrets. Aegina, the daughter of Aesopus [Asopus], was carried off by Jupiter [Zeus]. The father was shocked by that disappearance and complained to Sisyphus. He, who knew of the abduction, offered to tell about it on condition that Aesopus would give water to the citadel of Corinth. To the celestial thunderbolts* he preferred the benediction of water. He was punished for this in the underworld. Homer tells us also that Sisyphus put Death in chains. Pluto [Hades] could not endure the sight of his deserted, silent empire. He dispatched the god of war, who liberated Death from the hands of her conqueror.
It is said that Sisyphus, being near to Death, rashly wanted to test his wife’s love. He ordered her to cast his unburied body into the middle of the public square. Sisyphus woke up in the underworld. And there, annoyed by an obedience so contrary to human love, he obtained from Pluto permission to return to earth in order to chastise his wife. But when he had seen again the face of this world, enjoyed water and sun, warm stones and the sea, he no longer wanted to go back to the infernal darkness. Recalls, signs of anger, warnings were of no avail. Many more years he lived facing the curve of the gulf, the sparkling sea, and the smiles of earth. A decree of the gods was necessary. Mercury [Hermes] came and seized the impudent man by the collar, and snatching him from his joys, led him forcibly back to the underworld, where his rock was ready for him.
You have already grasped that Sisyphus is the absurd hero. He is, as much through his passions as through his torture. His scorn of the gods, his hatred of death, and his passion for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is exerted toward accomplishing nothing. This is the price that must be paid for the passions of this earth. Nothing is told about Sisyphus in the underworld. Myths are made for the imagination to breathe life into them. As for this myth, one sees merely the whole effort of a body straining to raise the huge stone, to roll it and push it up a slope a hundred times over; one sees the face screwed up, the cheek tight against the stone, the shoulder bracing the clay-covered mass, the foot wedging it, the fresh start with arms outstretched, the wholly human security of two earth-clotted hands. At the very end of his long effort measured by skyless space and time without depth, the purpose is achieved. Then Sisyphus watches the stone rush down in a few moments toward that lower world whence he will have to push it up again toward the summit. He goes back down to the plain.
It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me. A face that toils so close to stones is already stone itself! I see that man going back down with a heavy, yet measured, step toward the torment of which he will never know the end. That hour, like a breathing space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock.
If this myth is tragic, that is because the hero is conscious.
Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him? The workman of today works every day in his life at the same tasks, and this fate is no less absurd. But it is tragic only at the rare moments when it becomes conscious. Sisyphus, proletarian of the gods, powerless and rebellious, knows the whole extent of his wretched condition; it is what he thinks of during the descent. The lucidity that was to constitute his torture at the same time crowns his victory. There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn.
If the descent is thus sometimes performed in sorrow, it can also take place in joy. This word is not too much. Again I fancy Sisyphus returning toward his rock, and the sorrow was in the beginning. When the images of earth cling too tightly to memory, when the call of happiness becomes too insistent, it happens that melancholy rises in man’s heart; this is the rock’s victory, this is the rock itself. The boundless grief is too heavy to bear. These are our nights of Gethsemane.* But crushing truths perish from being acknowledged. Thus, Oedipus at the outset obeys fate without knowing it. But from the moment he knows, his tragedy begins. Yet at the same moment, blind and desperate, he realizes that the only bond linking him to the world is the cool hand of a girl [Antigone, Oedipus’s daughter and sister]. Then a tremendous remark rings out: “Despite many ordeals, my advanced age and the nobility of my soul make me conclude that all is well.”
Parallel Myths Page 20